Paulownia; seven stories from contemporary Japanese writers

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O'

SAN DIEGO

*

PAULOWNIA

PAULOWNIA

SEVEN STORIES FROM CONTEM-
PORARY JAPANESE WRITERS

WITH A FOREWORD
By JOHN ERSKINE, Ph.D.

Professor oj English, Columbia University

NEW YORK
DUFFIELD & COMPANY

1918

Copyright, 1918, by
DUFFIELD & COMPANY

THIS BOOK Is DEDICATED

TO

MY MOTHER
WITH

LOVE AND PIETY

CONTENTS

*- TAKASE BUNE

BY Mow OGWAI 3

— HANAKO

BY MORI OGWAI 35

-^ THE PIER

BY MORI OGWAI 55

THE BILL-COLLECTING

BY NAGAI KAFU 71

UKIYOE

BY NAGAI KAFU 105

—A DOMESTIC ANIMAL

BY SHIMAZAKI TOSON .... 117

v TSUGARU STRAIT

BY SHIMAZAKI TOSON . . . .135

FOREWORD

It is a pleasure to write a foreword
for my friend Mr. Taketomo's collec-
tion of Japanese tales. Our admiration
of Japanese art is now so deep and so
wide in Western countries that we are
sometimes startled to realize how little
we know of contemporary Japanese
writing — which means, how little we
know of the inner life of Japan today.
While statesmen and diplomats agon-
ize, contriving elaborate machinery for
the restoration and the maintenance of
international goodwill, it is in the power
of any of us, by reading such books as
this, to become better acquainted in a
pleasant hour with our neighbor's mind;
ix

FOREWORD

and upon acquaintance goodwill grows.
The service is perhaps beyond estimate
which Japanese literature may render
to us in the United States, by thus pre-
paring the seeds of friendship and of
justice between nations.

Whether Mr. Taketomo has made
faithful translations, I cannot say, since
I know nothing of the language and
very little of the literature from which
these pieces are drawn. But it is evi-
dent that these translations live, and
bring before us a world of people. We
observe that the persons in the stories
are like ourselves, or like the characters
who may very well, we believe, sur-
round us. Perhaps Mr. Taketomo has
chosen from authors under the influence
of Western literature, but in any case
true pictures of life in the East would
probably serve approximately to por-

FOREWORD

tray us at home. The episode subtly
told in "Hanako," the extraordinary
truth in "Takase Bune," the story of
the man who killed his brother, are as
pictures of our world, seen through our
eyes; what strangeness there is, dwells
in the language.

The literary method of these sketches
suggests the art of the great Russian
or French story-tellers. Yet to call
these selections realistic is not to ac-
count for all of their quality. Perhaps
the Japanese writers imitated Western
realists, but there is something alien,
something which we are likely to call
Japanese, in their power to represent
life as it is, or as it seems to be. This
power springs from the imagination
rather than from a theory of art. The
truth of the scenes here recorded is
naive as well as poignant. Is it because
xi

FOREWORD

the Oriental mind is new to us, and
seems therefore more acute, more sensi-
tive, simply because its approach is un-
familiar? Perhaps; but I think there is
something here which will not wear
threadbare on closer acquaintance — as
imaginative power, such as all artists
long for, to feel and see vividly the
whole drama of our daily life. This
power comes from a way of living,
rather than from a way of writing. If
Japan can teach us this, we may well
spare an hour to learn from her.

JOHN EKSKINE.

Xll

INTRODUCTION

Here are seven stories by three con-
temporary authors of Japan. On trans-
planting them into the soil of the Eng-
lish language, I must make a brief ac-
count of each author.

Mr. Mori Ogwai, a surgeon-general
in the Japanese army, is also renowned
for his deep scholarship in literature and
for his own writings, which are of en-
during value. His translation of
Andersen's "Improvisatoren" was re-
garded as the best specimen of this kind
of literature, and is still widely read
among the young men of Japan. I do
not know how often I have read this
book ; on leaving the shores of my home
xiii

INTRODUCTION

country I did not forget to put it in my
trunk among a few classics of Japan,
for it was the book in which I was in-
troduced first to Italy and to Dante.
We owe to Mr. Mori two admirable
translations from American authors,
"Rip Van Winkle," by Washington
Irving, and one of those stories of early
California life, by Bret Harte. These
were collected in a book, with other
translated stories by Daudet, Tolstoi,
Turgeniev, Hacklaender, Stern and
Kirschner. Mr. Mori wrote many
books of criticism and translation,
among which his translations of
"Faust" and "Gotz," and his "Life of
Goethe" are monumental works. Be-
sides these he has written many original
poems, dramas and stories. The stories
included in this book are taken from
some of his latest works,
xiv

INTRODUCTION

In my judgment, "Takase Bune"
seems to reveal most of his qualities and
merits. The subject was taken from
the life of the eighteenth century when
Japan was under the iron rule of the
so-called Shogunate. The two figures,
who are nothing but a humble criminal
and a guard, are reflections of the clear
minds of the age as well as of the spirit
of Japan, which partakes of centuries
of thought. The plot is extremely sim-
ple; the characters are only two, de-
picted with the writer's tranquil, digni-
fied and tempered words which some-
how reminded Japanese readers of
Flaubert or Merimee.

Mr. Mori may not regard the other
two stories as very important among
his works. But they were so fresh and
sweet to us that when we saw them in a
magazine we felt as if we were looking

XV

INTRODUCTION

at the white roses in the morning dew.
It is the color of white that is charac-
teristic of his writings. His treatment
of Rodin may be a sort of tour de force >
but still it has a vivid description of the
character. I read it with a friend in the
palm room of a restaurant at the river-
side of Kyoto, with a glass of cralet and
a plate of fruits; we were delightfully
surprised when Rodin asked about the
mountain and the sea. There is a
glimpse of Hiroshige's print which is
seen often in some corner of a Euro-
pean parlor, but so faint that the old
blue color passes almost unnoticed in
the general tone of the marble white.
In "The Pier" you will find the same
reflection of the Japanese mind, under
a brighter sky, in the character of a
noble lady. How different she is from
all your ladies of society! I cannot
xvi

INTRODUCTION

say which is better or which is happier,
but the innermost sentiment does not
seem to me to be different anywhere in
the world. It is wonderful to consider
the two, and to think of their difference
in manners and customs. Compared
with the hero of "Takase Bune," you
will find that the external development
of Japan, its wealth and social ranks,
has nothing to do with the moral sen-
timent of our people. That is what we
are somehow proud of, and somehow
ashamed of, at the same time.

If the general tone of Mr. Mori's
works is white, the color of Mr. Nagai
Kafu is peacock blue, or it may be well
to say, crimson. He is essentially a
colorist. His colors have become more
somber with his maturity till we have
such works as "The Bill-Collecting."
Here you will find a maidservant, who
xvii

INTRODUCTION

is compelled to work for the class most
humiliating at the present time in
Japan; we see the sensitive feeling of
her heart, like the "dewy lespedeza," as
it is called in Japan, and the overflow-
ing indignation of the writer at the
sham respectability of society. It is
written by the masterly hand of a social
satirist. Is this a "La Dame au
Camelia" who is speaking under the dis-
guise of a Japanese maid? No; Mr.
Nagai is a Japanese poet, all in all, but
his attitude toward the world, his taste,
and his early mode of writing often sug-
gested the decadent literati at the end
of the old feudal government. Spend-
ing most of his younger days in China,
America, and in France, this character
became submerged so deeply under the
surface of his writings that when his
two volumes of stories written in
xviii

INTRODUCTION

America and France were published, he
appeared as a new star in the literary
world of Japan. He watched the leaves
falling in the Central Park; he sighed
to see how soon the leaves of America
are on the ground, for he is a poet in the
real sense. How emotional he is before
a "thing of beauty" may be noticed in
his sketches of Ukiyoe, which I have
included in this book.

Mr. Shimazaki Toson was first
known as a lyric poet, and he was a
successful poet, too, for once there was
none in Japan who was a peer with Mr.
Shimazaki in the poetry of dolce stil
nuovo. "At last the new days have
come!" he wrote triumphantly in the
preface of the collection of his poems,
and it will be a long time before we
forget the strain of Nessun maggior
dolore which came, unconsciously, from
xix

INTRODUCTION

the mouth of our young poet. With
the Russo-Japanese war, the literature
of Japan changed its whole aspect. It
was called the "destruction of vision,"
or the "age of disillusion," and was the
proclamation of naturalism. Since
then Mr. Shimazaki has taken himself
out of the poetical field and retired to
the mountain in his native province.
We did not hear from him again till
two or three years afterward, when he
returned to Tokyo with a novel. Then
he wrote several stories and novels, but
alas ! there was no more the poet of the
Alpine breeze. His novel was com-
pared with "Madame Bovary," and his
stories with Turgeniev and Maupas-
sant. But I think the critic who men-
tioned the pictures of Millet was most
clear-sighted, one who knew his ten-
dency, in reality. The two short stories

XX

INTRODUCTION

which I include in this book will show
this. Intimacy was the paramount
thing he brought out in his writings.
Intimacy with nature and intimacy with
life, which he tried to clothe with plain
home-spun realism. But he did it so
skillfully that even amid the current of
crude naturalism he stood preeminently
as an artist.

These writers, I am glad to say, are
typical stylists of contemporary Jap-
anese literature. Their tendencies are
different, and tendencies of thought are
always moving. On reading these
stories some critics will say that there
is classicism in Mr. Mori, romanticism
in Mr. Nagai and naturalism in Mr.
Shimazaki. If you will put "Neo" be-
fore each "ism," it will be more accu-
rate. But what is the use? It is al-
ways difficult to decide what tendency
xxi

INTRODUCTION

an author has shown in his works, and
it is often misleading to trace back the
lineage of the minds of the East — no
matter what was their culture, and what
was their constitution of mind — in the
much-questioned traditions of the West.
Walter Pater says that "in that House
Beautiful, which the creative minds of
all generations — the artists and those
who have treated life in the spirit of
art — are always building together, for
the refreshment of the human spirit,
these operations cease." If you find a
beauty in the lacquerware of Korin, or
in the black and white of Sesshu, here
you will also find some beauties which
are entirely proper to us Japanese, and
which also are tending to the deeper
current of humanity.

The title of the book, "Paulownia,"
has a particular meaning to the Japan-
xxii

INTRODUCTION

ese mind. The word paulownia is the
name of a tree from which a lute of
peculiar charm is made, one which pro-
duces various sounds. In this book are
seven productions by three different
authors, all showing the melody of the
Japanese mind.

TORAO TAKETOMO.

xxiii

TAKASE BUNE

TAKASE BUNE
By Mom OGWAI

TAKASE BUNE is a small junk
that goes up and down the river
Takase in Kyoto. During the Toku-
gawa period, when a criminal of Kyoto
was sentenced to banishment to a dis-
tant island, the relatives of the criminal
were called out to the prison house
where they were allowed to bid him
farewell. Then the criminal was taken
to Takase bune and was sent to Osaka.
The man who took charge of him was a
Doshin, or a private, who was under the
command of Machibugyo, the city mag-
istrate of Kyoto, and it was the custom
3

PAULOWNIA

that this private permitted the chief
among the relatives to go on the junk
with the criminal. This was not openly
acknowledged by the government, but
was called "looking over with generous
eye," or the tacit toleration.

Though at that time the criminals
who were sentenced to a distant island
were considered as persons of great of-
fense, it was not that the majority of
them were condemned with such fero-
cious rascals as the incendiaries or the
murderers. Most of the criminals who
went on board Takase bune were peo-
ple who did unintentional crimes by so-
called misapprehension. As an exam-
ple, there was a kind of criminal who
committed suicide with his lover, but re-
mained alive after he killed his partner.

Taking such criminals on board,
Takase bune was rowed out when the
4

TAKASE BUNE

sunset bells began to ring from the
temples; it ran toward the east, facing
the dark houses of Kyoto on either
shore, and went down across the river
Kamo. In this junk, the criminal and
his relatives talked over their lives
through the night, always the repetition
of the same story of which the repent-
ance is of no avail. Listening beside
them, the private, who took the duty of
the guard, could know in detail the sad
circumstances of the relatives and the
family from which the criminal has
come out. This was the situation of
which the judges who listened to the
official statements or the court deliveries
on the white sands of the city govern-
ment, or read the written statements on
the desk of the office, could never
dream.

There were different characters
5

PAULOWNIA

among the persons who took the duty of
the private ; some of them felt only an-
noyance and were so cold-hearted that
they almost wanted to cover their ears,
while some others were deeply moved
with the sorrows of other people which
touched their hearts, though they would
not show their sympathy, as they were
doing their official duty. Sometimes,
when a criminal and his relatives with
the most unhappy circumstances hap-
pened to be guarded hy the private of
especially tender and sympathetic
heart, this private could not help weep-
ing with them.

Therefore, the guarding of Takase
bune was considered and disliked as the
most unpleasant duty among the pri-
vates of the city government.

When was it? Perhaps it may have
6

TAKASB BUNE

been during the age of Kwansei (1789-
1800), when Marquis Shirakawa Ra-
kuwo had ruling power at Edo. In a
spring evening when, as they say, the
cherry blossoms of the temple Chioin
fall in harmony with the sunset bells, a
strange criminal who had no similarity
to any that had been seen till that time
was taken to Takase bune.

His name was Kisuke, a man of
about thirty years of age, who had no
settled abode. As he had no relative to
be called to the prison house, he went
on the junk all alone.

Haneda Shobei, a private, who was
ordered to guard him and went on board
with him, had heard only that this
Kisuke was guilty of the crime of frat-
ricide. Now, while he was escorting
him from the prison house to the pier,
he looked at the appearance of this thin
7

PAULOWNIA

pale-colored Kisuke, and found him
quite frank and obedient, respecting
Shobei as an officer of the government,
trying not to offend him in any point.
Moreover, these were not the flatteries
to authority under the pretention of the
mildness which were often perceived
among the criminals.

Shobei thought it strange, and so,
after they went on board, he paid mi-
nute attention to the actions of Kisuke,
more than his duty required.

That day the wind ceased to blow in
the evening, and a thin cloud that cov-
ered over the whole face of the sky
blurred the outline of the moon; it was
an evening when the slow-approaching
warmth of summer was felt as if rising
like a haze, both from the earth on the
shore and the river-bed. After they
left the down-quarter of the city of Ky-
8

TAKASE BUNE

oto, and passed across the river Kamo,
the surroundings became so quiet that
they only heard the lappings of the
water cleaved by the prow.

Though the criminal was allowed to
sleep in the night boat, Kisuke did not
seem even to lie down, but kept silent,
looking at the moon whose light was
changing bright and dim, according to
the thickness of the cloud. His fore-
head was cloudless, and his eyes had a
faint brightness.

Though Shobei was not looking
straight at him, he was constantly keep-
ing his eyes on Kisuke, repeating: "This
is strange, this is strange," in his mind,
because the face of Kisuke looked so
completely happy that he seemed even
to begin to whistle or hum a song, as if
he was not afraid of annoying the
officer.

9

PAULOWNIA

Shobei thought in himself. He could
not remember how often he had man-
aged this Takase bune ; but all the crim-
inals whom he had taken on the junk
had the same pitiful appearance that he
could hardly bear to see the sight.
Now, what is the matter with this man?
He looks as if he is on the picnic boat.
It is said that he killed his brother, and
no matter how hateful a man the brother
was, and what the circumstances of his
killing him, he must be feeling badly if
he has a human heart. This pale-col-
ored thin fellow — is he such a peerless
villain who is entirely lacking in that
human sentiment? He does not seem
so. Is he, haply, insane? No, no, his
words and deportment do not show any
such self-contradiction. The more he
thought of the attitude of Kisuke, it be-

10

TAKASE BUNE

came more difficult for Shobei to under-
stand him.

Becoming impatient, Shobei ad-
dressed him at last :

"Kisuke, what are you thinking?"

"Yes, sir," replied Kisuke, who
looked around him and seemed to be
afraid that he had done something of-
fensive to the officer. With quick apol-
ogy he looked up to learn the humor of
Shobei.

Shobei felt that he must make him-
self clear and apologize for the sudden
question, which had no concern to his
official duty. So he said thus:

"Nay, I did not ask you with any
special meaning. In fact, I wanted to
ask you about your feeling in going to
the island. I have guarded a great
many people in this junk, and, though
they were men of various lives, all were
11

PAULOWNIA

alike in lamenting their exile and wept
through the night with the relative who
looked after them and spent an evening
in this junk. But looking at your ap-
pearance, I think you do not worry
about going to the island. What are
you thinking of?"

Kisuke smiled, and said:

"I am so grateful for your kind
words. Indeed it must he a sad thing
for other people to go to the island; I
also sympathize with their feeling. But
that is only because they spent easy
lives in the world. No doubt that Ky-
oto is a splendid place. But even in
that splendid place there will never
again be such torment as I have experi-
enced there. The government was so
merciful that it saved my life and or-
dered me to be sent to the island. How-
ever sorrowful the island may be it can-
12

TAKASE BUNE

not be the place where demons live. I
never have had the place where I could
stay as my home. But this time the
government ordered me to make the
island my home, and allowed me to stay
there without worry, and this is the first
thing that I am so thankful for. More-
over, I never have fallen sick in spite
of this feeble constitution, so I think
I never will hurt my body by exerting
myself with any hard work in the island.
Then, as I was to be sent to the island,
I was given two hundred pennies which
I have here."

Thus speaking, Kisuke placed his
hand on his breast. It was the law at
that time that a person who was sen-
tenced to the banishment to the island
was to be given two hundred pieces of
copper.

Kisuke continued his words : "I have
13

PAULOWNIA

to confess a shameful thing, that I never
have had the sum of two hundred pen-
nies thus in my breast. I sought to get
work everywhere, and worked very hard
as soon as I got it, and I had to deliver
all the money I earned to another man's
hand. I was pretty well off if I could
live from hand to mouth, but mostly I
paid my debts and borrowed again.
But since I was put into the prison
house I was fed without doing any
work. I cannot help but feel grate-
ful to the government for this single
fact. Besides, I was given this two
hundred pennies. If I could live on by
things which will be given by the gov-
ernment, I can keep these two hundred
pennies without spending any of them.
This is the first time that I ever pos-
sessed the money which need not be
spent. Though I do not know what
14

TAKASE BUNE

kind of work I can do there, until I land
on the island, I am looking forward
with pleasure to use these two hundred
pennies as a capital of the work which
I do in the island."

After he said this, Kisuke became
silent.

Though Shobei said, "H'm, is that
it?" he also became silent for a while
in deep meditation, for everything he
heard was quite far from his expecta-
tion.

Shobei was aged almost to the be-
ginning of the old age, and had already
four children by his wife, and, with his
old mother, his family consisted of
seven members. Generally he was liv-
ing such a frugal life that he was called
a miser, and he would not buy any
clothes except the night clothings and
those he wore at the office. Unfortu-
15

PAULOWNIA

nately, however, he took his wife from
the family of a rich merchant. And,
though the wife had good intentions to
live upon his stipend, she could not be
economical enough to satisfy her hus-
band, because she had the habits of a
spoiled child in a wealthy family. Fre-
quently, when the figures were wrong at
the end of the month, his wife borrowed
the money, secretly, from her home ; for
she knew that her husband hates the
debt as the caterpillar. After all, this
thing could not be hidden from a hus-
band. Shobei, who was annoyed even
to receive the things from her home on
such days as the five festivals, or the
clothes on the celebration of his chil-
dren's coming of age, did not like to
hear that the cracks of his livelihood
were filled up from her home. This is
the reason that the storms blew, now
16

TAKASE BUNE

and then, in the home of Haneda, which
otherwise had nothing to disturb its
peace.

Listening, now, to the story of
Kisuke, Shobei compared the life of
Kisuke to his own. Kisuke said that
he had to deliver, from one hand to the
other, the money that he earned by his
work, which is really a sad and miser-
able condition. But, he reflected on his
life, how much distance there was be-
tween Kisuke and himself. Isn't he
also one who is living only by the sti-
pend from the government and deliv-
ering it from one hand to the other?
The difference between this and that is
only the difference of the reeds on the
abacus, and he had no savings to cor-
respond to the two hundred pennies
which were so precious to Kisuke.

Now, considering the difference of
17

PAULOWNIA

the reeds, it was reasonable that Kisuke
was pleased with the coins of two hun-
dred pennies, regarding them as his sav-
ings. The feeling could be sympathized
with from Shobei's side, but no matter
how great the difference between the
reeds may be, there was a more won-
derful thing, which was the unselfish-
ness of Kisuke and his feeling of satis-
faction.

Kisuke suffered when he could not
find work in the world, and when he had
found it he worked hard and was easily
contented by only getting enough to
keep him from hunger. Since he was
taken to the prison house he was sur-
prised to see that the food, which was
so hard to get until that time, was given
without any labor, like the bestowment
from heaven, and he felt a satisfaction
which he never had experienced before.
18

TAKASE BUNE

Here, Shobei found a greater differ-
ence, beside that of the reeds, between
them. Though his livelihood, which he
was making by the stipend, became
sometimes short, generally the expen-
diture and the receipt were regular. It
was life to the full extent of his power
to comprehend it. Nevertheless he
never felt the satisfaction in it. Gen-
erally he felt his life neither fortunate
nor unfortunate. In the deeper part of
his mind, however, an apprehension was
always lurking which made him think
about what he should do if, while thus
living, he were fallen into a serious ill-
ness, or if he were suddenly dismissed
from the office, and this apprehension
appeared in the field of his conscious-
ness whenever he learned that his wife
had borrowed money from her home to
fill up the shortness of the expense.
19

PAULOWNIA

Why had this difference come to his
attention? Looking from the outside,
he considered that it was only because
Kisuke had no dependents, while he,
Shobei, had some. But this is not true.
Supposing himself a single man, Shobei
did not think that he could feel like
Kisuke. He thought that the reason
must have a deeper cause.

Vaguely, Shobei tried to think of a
thing like the human life. When one
had an illness he thinks only, if this ill-
ness was not in him ! When he had not
his daily meal he thinks, if he could
only eat ! When he had no savings for
some unforeseen accident he would
think only of a small amount of money.
Even then, if he had some, could he not
have a little more ! Thus, from one de-
sire to another, man does not seem to
stop, no matter how far he goes. He
20

TAKASE BUNE

noticed that this Kisuke was the one
who showed him that he must stop and
look before him.

Shobei looked at Kisuke with re-
newed wonder and felt as if a halo was
shining over the head of Kisuke, who
was looking up to the sky.

Gazing at the face of Kisuke, Shobei
addressed him again, saying:

"Kisuke san."

This time he said "san" or Mr., but
the. appellation was not changed with
full consciousness. As soon as he heard
his voice, Shobei noticed that this was
not appropriate. But he could not take
back the word which was already
spoken.

Kisuke, who replied, "Yes, sir,"
seemed to wonder that he was called
with "san," and looked timidly at
Shobei.

21

PAULOWNIA

Bearing his awkwardness, Shobei
said:

"I may be too inquisitive. But I
have heard that you were sentenced to
be exiled to the island at present be-
cause you have killed a man. Will you
mind to tell me the story?"

Kisuke said, "Willingly, sir," with
the appearance as if to plead his guilt,
and began to tell the story in a low
voice.

"I really have no word of apology
for myself, as I did such a dreadful
thing under a great misapprehension.
Thinking over it later I myself cannot
understand why such a thing has hap-
pened. It was really done in a rapture.
I lost my parents by pestilence when I
was small, and was left alone with my
younger brother. At first the people in
our neighborhood pitied us and we grew
22

TAKASE BUNE

up, without being starved or frozen, by
doing some errands and such things for
our neighbors. Even after we grad-
ually aged, when we searched after
work, we helped each other, trying not
to be separated as long as possible.

"It was the autumn of the last year.
I and my brother were employed at a
weaving establishment at Nishijin do-
ing a work which is called Karabuki, or
the dryer. Meanwhile my brother has
fallen sick so that he could not work
any more. At that time we were living
in a place like a temporary barn at
Kitayama and were going to the weav-
er's by crossing the bridge on the Kam-
iya river. When, in the evening, I came
home with the food and the other things,
my brother was waiting for me and al-
ways said that he must not let me work

alone.

23

PAULOWNIA

"One day I came home as usual,
without any anxiety, and I found my
brother lying on the bed with the face
downward, and there was blood all
around him. I was surprised, and
throwing off the bamboo sheath pack-
ages of food and other things I ap-
proached him, saying: 'What is the
matter ! What is the matter !' Then my
brother lifted up his death-pale face
which was dyed with blood from cheeks
to chin, and saw me, but could not
speak. Only a hissing sound came out
from the wound each time he breathed.
As I could not understand this at all,
I tried to go nearer to him, saying:
'Say, what is the matter with you? Did
you vomit the blood?' My brother
raised up his body a bit, sustained by
his right hand on the bed, and his left
hand was clutching firmly a spot under
24

TAKASE BUNE

the chin, from which a clump of the
dark blood was flowing between the
fingers. Speaking to me with his eyes,
not to come nearer, he opened his
mouth. At last he was able to speak
some words. 'Pardon, please,' he said,
'as I thought this an incurable disease
I decided to quicken my death to give
my brother a little of ease. I thought I
could die if I cut the wind-pipe, but
only the breath came out. I tried to
thrust deeper, deeper, and it slipped
aside. It seems that the blade was not
broken. I may be able to die if you take
this out. It is so hard to speak. Help
me, please. Take it out.'

"When my brother loosened the hand
the breath came out again from the
wound. My voice was choked so that I
could not speak, and silently I looked
at the throat of my brother. It seemed
25

PAULOWNIA

to me that he had cut across the wind-
pipe, but as he could not die by that, he
had thrust the razor into the throat as
if to gouge it. I saw about two inches
of the razor's handle. Thus far I
looked, but did not know what to do.
I only gazed at the face of my brother.
My brother was also gazing at me.

" 'Wait,' I said at last, 'I will run
for a doctor.' Then my brother looked
into my face with resentful eyes, and,
clutching again the throat firmly with
his left hand, he said: 'What can the
doctor do? Ah! it is painful! Quick,
take it out. I entreat you.' Feeling at
a loss, I was still looking at the face of
my brother. It is strange that the eyes
speak in such a time. My brother's
eyes urged: 'Do it quick, quick,' gaz-
ing at me with such a resentful look.

"I felt that the inside of my head was
26

TAKASE BUNE

turning around like a wheel, but the
eyes of my brother did not cease that
dreadful urging. Moreover, the re-
sentfulness of his eyes grew sharper and
sharper, until they became such fierce
eyes as those that glare at the face of
an enemy. Looking at this, I felt that
I must do as he asked, and I said: 'It
cannot be helped. I will take it out.'
Instantly the expression of my broth-
er's eyes changed, and he looked so
serene and happy. I thought I must do
it in one movement, so I bent my body
forward just as I was kneeling. My
brother let go his right hand with which
he was sustaining himself, and helped
by the hand which had clutched the
throat. Firmly I caught the handle of
the razor and drew it out.

"Just at that moment I saw, opening
the front door which I closed from
27

PAULOWNIA

the inside, an old woman entering
the house. She was the old woman
whom I employed to attend to my
brother while I am away, to help him to
drink medicine and to do other such
things. As it was already dark in the
house, I do not know how much she had
seen there. Crying, 'Alas !' she ran out,
leaving the door opened.

"When I drew out the razor I took
care to draw it quickly and straightly.
But the unsteadiness of my hand was
such that I cut some part which was not
cut before. As the blade was facing to
the outside, it may have been that a part
on that side was cut. With razor
clasped in my hand, vacantly I was
looking at the old woman, coming in
and running out. It was after she went
away that I was awakened to myself,
and looked at my brother, who was al-
28

TAKASE BUNE

ready dead. A great deal of blood was
flowing from the wound. Thus I re-
mained gazing, with the razor beside
me, at the face of my brother, dead with
half -opened eyes, until the senators of
the town came and took me to the office."

When he had said this, Kisuke, who
told his story looking up to Shobei's
face, dropped his eyes.

The story of Kisuke was quite log-
ical. It may be almost well to say that
it was too logical. This came about be-
cause he had reflected on the affair
many times during about half a year,
and because he had to rehearse it each
time when he was required at the city
office, or before the court of the gov-
ernment.

Listening to him, Shobei felt as if he
was looking at the very scene. But,
when the story was half told, a doubt
29

PAULOWNIA

was raised in his mind. Was this really
a fratricide? He could not answer the
question even when he heard all of the
story. The brother had asked him to
draw out the razor because he thought
that he would be able to die if it was
drawn. So he drew it and let him die,
which may be considered as a murder.
But it seemed to Shobei that the
brother had to die even if he was left
in that condition. The reason that he
wanted to die sooner was that he could
not bear the anguish. Kisuke could not
bear to see it, and, intending to save
him from that anguish, he cut short the
life of his brother. Is this a crime?
Undoubtedly, the fact that he killed him
is a crime. But the doubt came here,
where Shobei thought that it was done
to save anguish. He could not solve it
by any means.

30

TAKASE BUNE

After much reflection, there came
\

into Shobei's mind a desire to put the
burden upon someone who was supe-
rior to him; it was the desire to follow
authority. Shobei wished to make the
judgment of the Honorable Magis-
trate like his own. But even when he
desired this, there was something in his
mind which he could not understand,
but somehow he wanted to ask the
Honorable Magistrate about it.

In the gloomy night, that declined
hour after hour, Takase bune, loaded
with two silent men, glided along upon
the surface of the dark water.

31

HANAKO

HANAKO

By MORI OGWAI

\ UGUSTE RODIN came into the
*• ** studio.

The spacious room was filled with
sunshine. This Hotel Biron was a lux-
urious building, originally erected by a
certain rich man, but later on it be-
came a convent of the school of the
Sacred Heart, and remained so, until a
short time ago. Perhaps in this very
room the nuns of the Sacre Coeur called
together the girls of the Faubourg
Saint Germain and taught them their
hymns. Just as the little birds cry out
on seeing from their nest the mother ap-
35

PAULOWNIA

preaching, so the little girls, standing in
rows and opening their mouths, may
have sung.

Those cheerful voices no longer may
be heard.

But another sort of cheerfulness is
reigning in this room, a different life is
dominating. It is a voiceless life, but
though voiceless, it is magnificent, pul-
sating and cultured.

There were several lumps of gypsum
on each of several tables. The master
is accustomed to begin several works at
a time, and to work on them intermit-
tently, according to his mood, until
complete. As various plants bloom at
the same time, so certain of his works
grow, like things in nature, some rap-
idly, some slowly. This man has a tre-
mendous perception of form. His
works are growing before his hands
36

HANARO

touch them. This man has a tre-
mendous power of concentration. The
moment he begins a work he is able
to assume the attitude of continu-
ing a work begun some hours be-
fore.

With bright face Rodin looked over
the numerous half-completed works;
that face with a broad forehead, a nose
that seemed to have a joint in the mid-
dle ; a white, ample beard that crowded
about the chin.

There were knocks at the door.

"Entrez."

A deep, powerful voice, unlike that
of an old man, vibrated through the air
of the room. The man who entered the
door was a lean fellow of about thirty
years of age, with dark brown hair, and
a Jewish cast of countenance.

He announced that he was bringing
37

PAULOWNIA

Mademoiselle Hanako as he had prom-
ised.

Rodin did not change his appearance
either when he saw the man entering
or when he heard the words.

Once when a chieftain from Cam-
bodia was staying in Paris, Rodin saw
a dancer whom this chieftain had
brought, and he felt a kind of attrac-
tion for the flexible movements of her
long slender limbs. The dessins taken
in haste are still in his possession.
Rodin — believing, as in that case, that
every person has something of beauty
— a beauty to one who discovers the
point — had heard that a Japanese girl
called Hanako, had been on the stage at
the Variete, for several days. Through
a mediator he asked the man who had
charge of Hanako to bring her to his
house.

38

HANARO

The man who had come was the man-
ager, the impresario.

"Let her come hither," Rodin said.

It was not merely from lack of time
that he neglected to show him to a chair.

"I have brought an interpreter with
us," the man said, as if to learn his
humor.

"Who is he? Is he a Frenchman?"

"No, a Japanese who works at L'ln-
stitut Pasteur. He heard from Hanako
that she was called to you, and desired
to come as interpreter."

"All right. Let him enter also."

Instantly, two Japanese, a man and a
woman, entered the room. Both of
them looked peculiarly small. The
manager, who followed and closed the
door, was not a tall man, but the two
Japanese reached only to his ears.

Rodin's face wrinkled about the eyes,
39

PAULOWNIA

the wrinkles which seem to be carved
at the inner corner, when he looks at
things intently. The wrinkles showed
at this time. His gaze moved from the
student to Hanako, and stayed there
for a while. The student saluted, and
grasped the right hand Rodin offered,
the hand on which each sinew stood on
the surface, the hand that had created
La Danaide, Le Bcdser, and Le Pen-
seur. And, taking out a card on which
Kubota, M. P., was written, he deliv-
ered it to Rodin.

Rodin glanced at the card, and
said :

"Are you working at L'lnstitut Pas-
teur?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you been there for some
time?"

"Avez-vous bien travailU?"
40

HANAKO

Kubota was surprised. He had been
told that Rodin says this as a habit.
Now, these simple words were spoken
directly to him.

"Oui, beaucoup, monsieur!"

At the moment he said this, Kubota
felt as if he were swearing to be diligent
for life.

Kubota introduced Hanako. Rodin
looked down as if to comprehend her
with a glance of the eye, and he saw
the small, trim body of Hanako from
the unbecomingly dressed hair of Taka-
shimada, to the tips of her feet in white
Tabi and in Chiyoda sandals, and he
reached forth and took the tiny but ro-
bust hand.

Kubota could not but feel in his mind

a sort of humility. He wished that he

had a finer person to introduce to Rodin

as a Japanese woman. His feeling was

41

PAULOWNIA

not unreasonable, for Hanako was not
a beauty. She had appeared in the
European cities as a Japanese actress,
but the Japanese themselves knew
nothing of such an actress. Of course,
Kubota also knew nothing about her.
Moreover, the actress was not a beauty.
It might be too severe to call her a serv-
ant. She did not seem to have worked
especially hard, for her hands and feet
were not hardened. But even at her
bloom of seventeen, her appearance
would hardly rank her as a chamber-
maid. In a word, she was not more
presentable than a nursery maid.

Unexpectedly, Rodin's face showed a
glow of satisfaction. He was pleased
with Hanako; healthy, with no sign of
indulgence in leisure; with firm, elastic
flesh, well-developed by proper exer-
cise— characteristics that were vividly
42

HANAKO

shown in the face, short from forehead
to chin, in the bare wrists and gloveless
hands, and in the thin skin which showed
not a particle of fat.

Hanako, who was already accus-
tomed to European manners, took the
hand of Rodin with an amiable smile on
her face.

Rodin offered chairs to both of them,
and said to the manager:

"Please wait for us a while in the
parlor.'*

After the manager was gone, they sat
down.

Offering the uncovered box of cigars
to Kubota, Rodin said to Hanako:

"Are there any mountains or sea at
Mademoiselle's home?'*

Hanako, as is common among the
women in such a profession, had a regu-
lar stereotyped story of her life, which
43

PAULOWNIA

she told to persons whenever she was
questioned. Just as in the case of the
little girl in Zola's "Lourdes," who re-
lates the miracle of the recovery of her
injured feet in the train, her story be-
came, through frequent repetition, like
the composition of the routine story-
teller. Fortunately, the unexpected
question of Rodin upset this ready-
made plan.

"The mountain is at a distance. The
sea is close by."

The answer pleased Rodin.

"Did you ride on junks frequently?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you row yourself?"

"No, sir. I did not row as I was still
small. My father rowed."

A picture came into Rodin's imagi-
nation, and he became silent for a while.
Rodin is a man who is often silent.
44

HANARO

Rodin said abruptly to Kubota:

"I presume Mademoiselle is ac-
quainted with my profession. Would
she be willing to remove her cloth-
ing?"

Kubota reflected a moment. Of
course he did not wish to be instru-
mental in causing a woman of his own
country to bare herself before another
man, but he did not object to daring it
for Rodin. There was no need on his
part for reflection; his hesitation was
due to the doubt as to what Hanako
would say.

"Anyway, I will speak to her."

"If you please."

Kubota addressed Hanako in this
manner.

"The master has something to con-
sult you about. I think you under-
stand that he is the peerless sculptor of
45

PAULOWNIA

the world, and models the shape of the
human body. This is the point about
which he wishes to consult you. He
wishes to know if you will oblige him
by posing to him in the nude for a few
moments. What do you say? As you
see, he is an elderly man, not far from
seventy ; moreover, he is such a fine gen-
tleman. What do you think?"

Thus saying, Kubota looked atten-
tively into Hanako's face. He was
wondering whether she would be over-
come with shame, or affect airs, or
blame him.

"I will," she replied frankly and
naively.

"She consents," Kubota told Rodin.

Rodin's face shone with pleasure, and
rising up from the chair, he took out
paper and chalk, and said to Kubota as
he laid them on the table:
46

HANARO

"Will you stay here?"

"The same thing is sometimes neces-
sary in my profession," said Kubota,
"but it might be unpleasant to Made-
moiselle."

"Then, will you wait there in the li-
brary? I shall be through within fif-
teen or twenty minutes. Light a cigar,
if you like."

"He says he will be through within
fifteen or twenty minutes." Saying
these words to Hanako, Kubota went
out through the door shown him.

The small chamber into which Ku-
bota stepped, had entrances on either
side, and only one window. Book-
cases were on the wall opposite the win-
dow, and on the other walls that con-
stituted its wings.

Kubota stood a while reading the
47

PAULOWNIA

titles on the leather bindings of the
books. This was a collection which had
been assembled rather by chance than
by intention. Rodin was by nature a
book lover, and it is said that he was
always carrying a book in his hand even
in his young days of misery, when he
was roaming the streets of Brussels.
Among the old dusty books there must
be some of varied memories and
brought here with purpose.

As the ashes of his cigar were about
to fall, Kubota walked toward the
table and dropped the ashes in the re-
ceiver.

And, wondering what were the
books on the table, he took them up
to see.

On the furtherest edge of the table,
leaning against the window, was a book
which Kubota took to be the Bible, but,
48

HANAKO

on opening it, he found that it was the
edition de poche of the "Divinna
Comedia." The book aslant was one
of the works of Baudelaire.

Without any idea of reading, he
opened the first page, on which there
was a treatise entitled "The Meta-
physics of the Toy," and, wondering
what was in it, he all at once began to
read.

The treatise opened with this mem-
ory, that when Baudelaire was a little
boy he was taken to a certain demoiselle
who had a room full of toys, and told
he might have his choice. After a child
has played with a toy for a while, he is
possessed to break it. He wonders
what there is beyond the thing. If it be
a moving toy, he wishes to search after
the origin of the impulse. Hence the
child goes from Physique to Meta-
49

PAULOWNIA

physique, from science to metaphysics.
As it was only four or five pages,
Kubota, becoming interested, read
through to the end.

Then there was a knock; the door
opened and Rodin's white-haired head
peeped through.

"Pardon me. You must be tired."
"No, sir, I was reading Baudelaire."
Saying thus, Kubota entered the
studio. Hanako was already dressed.
Two esquisses were lying on the table.

"What of Baudelaire were you read-
ing?"

" 'The Metaphysics of the Toy.' "
"The same idea pertains to the human
body, that the form is not interesting
simply because it is a form. It is a
mirror of the soul. The inner flame,
showing transparently through the
form, alone is interesting."
50

HANAKO

When Kubota looked timidly at the
esquisseSj Rodin said:

"They must be hard to understand,
as they are so rough."

He continued after a moment:

"Mademoiselle has an exceedingly
beautiful body. She has not a particle
of fat. Each muscle rises on the sur-
face like the muscle of a fox terrier. As
the fibers are tight and thick, the size
of the joints is made the same as the
size of the limbs. They are so firm that
she could stand on one leg while the
other is stretched at a right angle, like a
tree that has its roots thrust deep in
the earth. This is different from the
Mediterranean type with broad shoul-
ders and loins, and does not resemble
the North European type with broad
loins, but narrow shoulders* It is the
beauty of strength."
51

THE PIER

THE PIER
By MORI OGWAI

pier is long — leng -
The rails of four railroads cut
straight and obliquely the beams of the
iron bridge on which the long and short
cross-beams are like the bars of a xylo-
phone on which children play. Through
the cracks of the cross-beams, that al-
most catch the heels of shoes and
wooden clogs, here and there the black
waves are shown, reflected on the white
flashes of sunshine.

The sky has cleared into a deep blue.
On the inside of the train where she
was sitting with her husband starting
55

PAULOWNIA

to-day, she did not think the wind was
blowing.

When leaving the jinrikisha, in which
she rode from the station of Yoko-
hama, and standing on this pier, she
found that the wind of the fifth of
March was still blowing as if to bite
the skin, fluttering the skirts of the
Azuma coat.

It is the Azuma coat in silver gray,
which she loosely wears on her body,
that carries the child of her husband,
who is starting to-day, this day which
is not far from the month of confine-
ment.

She came with her hair in Sokuhatsu.
Her boa is of white ostrich. Holding
the light green umbrella with tassels,
she walks along, surrounded by four or
five maidservants.

*

The pier is long — long — —
56

THE PIER

The big ships are anchoring on the
right and the left of the pier. Some are
painted in black, some in white.

The anchored ships are making a
fence for the wind. Every time she
leaves the place where there are ships,
a gust of wind blows and flutters the
skirts of her Azuma coat.

Two years ago, immediately after he
was graduated from the university of
literature, the count, her husband, had
married her. It was during the previ-
ous year that she gave birth to her first
child, a princess like a jewel. At the
end of the year the husband became a
Master of Ceremonies at the Court.
And, now, he is starting to London,
charged with his official duty.

In his newly made gray overcoat,
flinging the cane with crooked handle,
her husband is walking rapidly along
57

PAULOWNIA

the pier. The viscount, who is going
with him, and whose height is taller by
a head than his, also walks rapidly be-
side him, clad in a suit of similar color.

The French ship, on which her hus-
band is about to go abroad, is anchor-
ing at the extreme end of the right side
of the pier.

A stool, like that which is used to
repair the wires of a trolley, is stationed
on the pier, and from it a gangplank is
laid across to the bulwark.

While walking slowly, she sees her
husband and the viscount, his compan-
ion, crossing the gangplank and enter-
ing the ship.

The group of people looking after
them are standing, here and there, on
the pier. Almost all of them are those
who came to bid adieu to her husband
and the viscount. Perhaps there are no
58

THE PIER

other passengers on this ship about to
sail who are so important and are
looked at by so many people.

Some of them are going to the foot of
the stool on which the gangplank is laid,
and stop there to wait for their com-
panions. Some of them are standing at
the place, a bit before the stool, where
the blocks and ropes are laid down.

Among these people there must be
some who are intimately known to her
husband, and some who know him but
slightly. But, standing under this clear
sky, they all seem dejected; or is it only
her fancy?

The pier is long — long

Following slowly after them, uncon-
sciously she looks off to her right where
there were many round windows on the
side of the ship. The faces and chests
of women are seen from one of those
59

PAULOWNIA

round windows. Three of them are
from thirty to forty years of age; all
with white aprons on their chests. They
must be the waitresses of the ship. Sup-
posing them to be the waitresses who
wait on the passengers of the ship, on
which her husband is on board, she feels
envious of even those humble women.

There is also a woman at the bul-
wark, looking down on the pier, who
wears a big bonnet with white cloth and
carries a small leather bag in her hand.
Two big eyes, as if painted with shad-
ows, are shining on her wrinkled face
above the large nose, like a hook. She
looks like a Jewess. She also must be
a traveler who is going on this ship.
She is also envious of her.

The pier is long — long

At last she arrives at the foot of the
gangplank. Cautiously she carries her
60

THE PIER

body, which has the second infant of her
husband under the Azuma coat, and
descends on the deck of the big, black-
painted ship. She hands the umbrella
to a maidservant.

Led by the people who have come to
say farewell and were already on board,
she goes back along the bulwark toward
the prow. There are rooms for pas-
sengers at the end of the way, the num-
bers of which increase from twenty-
seven to twenty-nine.

The viscount is standing at the en-
trance and addresses her.

"This is the room, madam."

Peeping into the room she finds two
beds, under which the familiar packages
and trunks are deposited. Her hus-
band is standing before one of the beds.

"Look it through, madam. It is like

this.'*

61

PAULOWNIA

This is the room; she must look
through it carefully. During the long,
long voyage of her husband, this is the
room where her dreams must come and
go.

A man, who looks like the captain,
comes, and, addressing her husband in
French, guides him to the saloon of the
ship. She follows her husband and the
viscount and enters the room.

This is a spacious and beautiful saloon.
Several tables are arranged, each bear-
ing a flower basket. . . . Gradually the
people who came to say farewell gather
into the room.

By the order of this man, who looks
like the captain, a waiter brings forth
many cups in the shape of morning-
glories, and, pouring champagne into
them, he distributes them among the
people. Another waiter brings cakes,
62

THE PIER

like those which are brought with ice
cream, piled on a plate in the form of
the well crib, and distributes them
among the people.

The people who received the cups go
one after another, and stand before her
husband and the viscount, wishing them
a happy voyage, and drink from the
cups.

Sitting on a small chair beside the
table, she is waiting for the time when
the congratulations are at the end.
During his busy moments, now and
then, her husband lifts his eyes to her.

However, there is no more to be said
to her before many people. Also, there
is no more to be said to him, before
many people.

The bell rings. Having bidden fare-
well to her husband and to the viscount
the people are going out, one after an-
63

PAULOWNIA

other. She also follows them, saluting
her husband and the viscount.

Again crossing the dangerous gang-
plank, she descends to the pier. She
received the light green umbrella from
the hand of her maidservant, and raises
it.

Her husband and the viscount are
standing on the bulwark, looking in
her direction. She is looking up at
them from under her umbrella. She
feels that her eyes, as she looks up,
are growing gradually larger and
larger.

Again the bell rings. A few French
sailors begin to untie the rope from the
gangplank. A Japanese laborer in
Hanten is standing on the stool like that
which is used in repairing the trolley,
preparing to draw down the gangplank.
Hanging on the rope of the wheel,
64

THE PIER

pulled by the man in Hanten, the gang-
plank at last leaves the bulwark.

The noon-gun of the city of Yoko-
hama resounds. With this as a signal,
the ship, from the hold of which for
some time a noise has been issuing, si-
lently begins to move.

The elderly Europeans, who seem to
be a married couple, are standing at the
bulwark. They are talking about some-
thing of a jolly nature with a white-
haired old man who is standing on the
pier, with one of his feet placed on an
apparatus, to roll the ropes, which
looks like a big bobbin. They do not
seem to regret the parting.

It looks as if the ship is moving. It
looks as if the pier is moving. There
seems to be the distance of a Pallaraxe
between the place where her husband
and the viscount are standing and the
65

PAULOWNIA

place where she is standing. She feels
her eyes growing larger and larger.

Some of the people who are looking
after them are running to the end of the
pier. She cannot do such an immodest
thing. Suddenly something white
waves at the bulwark. It was a hand-
kerchief waved by the hand of a woman
who wears a big bonnet decorated with
a white cloth. A tall man stands at the
end of the pier, in red waistcoat and
tan shoes. A white handkerchief
waves also from the hand of this man.
This also must be a parting in human
life.

These two persons set the fashion,
and the handkerchiefs are waved here
and there. White things are waving
also from the people who are looking
after the group surrounding the count.
She also grasps the batiste handkerchief
66

THE PIER

which she has brought in her sleeve,
but she cannot do such an immodest
thing.

When the ship seemed to have left
the pier, it turned its prow a bit to the
right. The place where her husband
and the viscount were standing has dis-
appeared at last.

Still she can see a boy about fifteen
or sixteen, standing at the stern, in a
blue, cold-looking garment like a blouse.
What mother is waiting for him in
France? Or, has he no parents? What
is he looking at, standing by the rail at
the stern?

Slowly she turned her feet and
walked among the maidservants sur-
rounding her.

The pier is long — long

At the place where the black-painted
ship was anchored, until a short time
67

PAULOWNIA

ago, the water is glittering like the
scales of fish, as the small ripples are
reflecting the pale sunshine.

68

THE BILL-COLLECTING

THE BILL-COLLECTING
By NAGAI KAFU

T NSTANTLY after she got up from
-*• the bed where she was sleeping
with Omatsu, her companion, Oyo put
on her narrow-sleeved Hanten as usual,
and, wrapping her head with a towel in
the manner of the "sister's cap," she
began to sweep the parlor.

Oyo is the maidservant in Kinugawa,
an assignation house.

As they had guests in the inner room
of Yojohan, who had been lodging
there since the evening before, Oyo
wiped up every place with the dust
cloth except that room, including the
71

PAULOWNIA

railings and stairways of the first floor.
Coming down to the fireplace near the
counter she found the mistress, with
toothbrush in her mouth, already un-
covering the charcoal fire of the previ-
ous evening. In contrast to the dark,
humid interior where the odor of wine
seemed to drift from somewhere, the
winter sunshine glittering on the oppo-
site side of the street and through the
frosted-glass screen of the front lattice
gate, looked quite warm and cheerful.
As soon as the mistress saw Oyo, who
was bidding her "Good-morning," she
said all at once :

"Now, Oyo, I wish you would go
directly after breakfast, as the place is
far."

Being thus ordered, Oyo took up her
chopsticks for breakfast, eating before
Omatsu and Otetsu the cook. After
72

THE BILL-COLLECTING

having finished her toilet and changed
her dress, and listening again to the in-
structions and messages from the mis-
tress, she started. It was almost seven
o'clock when she set out in the new
wooden clogs that were given her by the
regular geisha girls as a present at the
end of the last year, and she heard the
voice of the cook-supplier at the kitch-
en, the man who came to get the plates
and bowls.

Oyo went out by the familiar short-
cut through the lane between the
houses of the geisha girls. Coming out
into the open street of Ginza, which was
filled with sunshine, she looked around
her as though surprised at the new ap-
pearance of things. Her bosom pul-
sated to the sounds of trolleys passing
by, and she not only felt that she had
forgotten all the messages charged by
73

PAULOWNIA

the mistress, but even the route which
she thought she had understood well
when she left home. She became con-
fused, so that the way seemed further
than she had supposed.

It had been five years since Oyo en-
tered service, in the autumn, at the age
of fourteen, at Kinugawa, the assigna-
tion house. She had been at Hakone
and at Enoshima, she knew Haneda
and the shrine of Narita, but it was
only as an attendant of the guests and
geisha girls in the great carousels of
many people that she went to these
places. Once, though she was a woman,
she had walked alone through the night
with two or three hundred yen in cash
in her sash. But it was not further
than a few blocks where she went to an
accustomed bank on behalf of the mis-
tress. It was only once or twice in a
74

THE BILL-COLLECTING

year that she rode a really long distance
by trolley, to visit her home at Minami-
Senju for holiday.

To a woman of down-town who
knows nothing about the suburbs of To-
kyo, except Fukagawa, Shinagawa, and
Asakusa, even to hear the name of
Okubo in the uptown district where
Oyo was going to-day to collect the bill,
caused her to imagine a place where
foxes and badgers live. As she also
felt fearful that she might not be able
to return home that day if she did not
catch the trolley as soon as possible, she
hurried to the square of Owaricho, not
even stopping at the beautiful show
windows of Matsuya, and Mikamiya
and Tenshodo.

"Good-morning, Maid Oyo!"
Suddenly, being thus addressed from
the crowd which was waiting for the
75

PAULOWNIA

trolley, Oyo turned back and saw an
employed girl of Tamaomiya, who had
her hair dressed in Hisashigami and
wore the half -coat of Koki silk.

"Kimi chan. Going to temple?"

As is a habit of woman, Oyo looked
at the hair and clothing of this geisha
girl, which was not particularly un-
usual.

"No. I have a patient at home,"
Kimi chan, the employed girl, said
apologetically, as though answering the
question of the employer. "Where are
you going?"

"To the place called Okubo. I was
told to take the Shinjuku line. Is this
the place to wait for it?"

"Shinjuku. . . . Then it is on the
other side. You must take the car from
the other side of the street."

"Oh!" Oyo cried, with such a loud
76

THE BILL-COLLECTING

voice that she surprised herself. And
as if she could not hear the formal salu-
tation of the employed girl, "Please
keep me in mind again . . ." she
crossed the square to the other side al-
most in rapture. Though it was a win-
ter morning her forehead perspired.
Having heaved a sigh of relief before
the glass door of the Cafe Lion, Oyo
turned back with a wonder-stricken
look to the other side of the street where
was the clock on the roof of the Hattori
clock store, thinking that it was a mar-
velous thing that she was not killed in
the midst of the square where so many
trolleys are crossing. By that time the
employed girl of Tama-omiya, almost
crushed among the crowds on the con-
ductor's platform, went away toward
the Mihara bridge, and though many al-
most empty cars followed it, the only
77

PAULOWNIA

thing that passed the tracks where Oyo
was waiting was a lumbering horse
truck loaded with casks. The sidewalk
near to the Cafe Lion was so filled with
persons waiting for transfers that they
overflowed on to the street pavement.
Unconsciously, Oyo looked at the blue
sky of winter, calling to mind the clock
on the roof of Hattori's building, which
pointed to half-past eleven. She be-
came so impatient that she felt she
could not wait any longer. The com-
plaints of the persons who were wait-
ing for transfers, speaking in loud
voices, the breaking of the wires or the
stoppage of the electric current, dis-
turbed her as though it were the an-
nouncement of a fire burning her house.
Exhausted by waiting, Oyo, like the
others, leaned against the glass door of
the Cafe and hung her head. Suddenly
78

THE BILL-COLLECTING

becoming conscious of a commotion,
Oyo also ran in order not to be too late
for the car, but, being only a helpless
woman, she could hardly approach the
first car. Even the next one she missed,
for a big man of dark complexion,
crossing in from the side, had pushed
her away when her foot was already on
the step. Moreover, her side lock of
Ichogaeshi was rubbed up by the sleeve
of the double manteau with great force.

"Now I won't mind what becomes of
me. I will wait even half a day, or a
day, as long as they want me to wait."

Oyo, who had already become des-
perate, purposely followed behind the
crowd, to take the next approaching
car.

When they came to Hibiya park, a
seat was left, so Oyo could at last rest
her tired back. Then the inside of the
79

PAULOWNIA

car was calmer and the streets outside
opened out and became more quiet, and
in the warmth of the inside of the car,
with the sun shining on the back of her
neck and shoulders, she nodded involun-
tarily with the light jolting of the car.
The fatigue of the body, which has to
work every night until one o'clock at
the earliest, pressed on her eyelids all at
once. As Oyo is the favorite servant of
the mistress, raised by her from child-
hood, she must help her not only in the
parlor of the guests, but also as cham-
bermaid. To be made a companion in
the late drinking of the guest in her
busy time is bearable, but the most dis-
gusting thing is the troublesome task
of washing clean, in a hot-water cup,
the whole set of artificial teeth of a guest
nearly sixty years of age, every time

after his meal.

80

THE BILL-COLLECTING

In a short time there were indi-
cations of the stopping of the car and
passengers coming and going, Oyo
awakened all at once, surprised, and
looked out of the window. She saw a
leafy tree, a high bank and a low bridge
on the waterless moat. The conduc-
tors, enough to frighten her, were as-
sembled in front of the new house at
the corner. Many empty cars were left
as if they were to be given away. With
this sight of unfamiliar streets, Oyo felt
unutterable helplessness. She became
anxious about the thing in her sash,
fearing that it had been stolen in her
absent-minded moments. Also she
doubted whether this was the place to
leave the car. Impatiently she moved
a bit from the end and said :
"Please, what is this place?"
The high-boned, flat-faced, slant-
81

PAULOWNIA

eyed conductor, who seemed to perceive
the embarrassed figure of Oyo by a
glance, did not move from the plat-
form. Shrugging his shoulders, as if
cold, and turning his head to the other
side, he pulled the bell so that Oyo, who
had left her seat, was upset by the mov-
ing car and thrown with all the weight
of her body on the lap of a man look-
ing like a foreman of the laborers, who
was sitting near to the entrance. Feel-
ing abashed, Oyo tried to get up
quickly; she noticed that a big arm, as
heavy as iron, was laid on her back as if
to embrace her body; she struggled with
all her might.

"Ehelhelhe!"

With the vile, frightful laughter
there was a smell of wine.

"How can I stand it when I am held
fast by a girl!"

82

THE BILL-COLLECTING

"What good luck to have!" chanted
one of the group that was sitting on the
other side, and they burst into laughter.

Oyo flushed like fire, and wished even
to jump out of the moving car. After
that she felt that all the eyes in the car
were looking constantly at her. Even
then, she had not gained her composure
after the fright of the moment when
she felt herself closely embraced by a
laborer. All at once Oyo became con-
scious that no one in the car was dressed
like her — in Meisen silk, with folds laid
somewhat loose, gray Hawori with an
embroidered crest on it, and an apron
of Itob'ri neatly tied. All the other
women were in Hisashigami and in
close folds, and most of the men pas-
sengers were soldiers. Her helpless-
ness riding among these unknown peo-
ple became more keen. Just at the time
83

PAULOWNIA

when she was about to ask the con-
ductor, who came to inspect the trans-
fer tickets, regarding the station before
Shinjuku, her embarrassment and
helplessness became all but overwhelm-
ing.

"This is the Awoyama line, Miss. If
you wish to go to Shinjuku, there is no
other way but to transfer at Awoyama
Itchome, and again at Shiocho."
Throwing the transfer ticket on the lap
of Oyo, the conductor hurried to fix the
dislocated pole.

As she had understood that she could
go all the way without transfering, Oyo,
on hearing that she had to transfer not
once but twice, felt as if she was thrown
at last into the labyrinthine jungle of
Yawata.

THE BILL-COLLECTING

II

After going here and there, Oyo was
able at last to realize that Tenmacho
Nichome was the station before Shin-
juku. How far would the troubles of
the unknown route continue? Oyo re-
gretted that she had come, and thought
that she would never again go on an
errand to an unknown place, no matter
how she might be scolded. It is far bet-
ter to stay at home with the sweeping,
and to dry the bed-clothes or to wash
the Yukata to offer to the guests. In
this broad street, more bustling than she
could have expected, she could not tell
whether she had to turn to the right or
to the left. Nevertheless, as she could
not stand in the middle of the street, she
was thinking about paying her own
85

PAULOWNIA

money secretly to ride in a Kuruma,
when she saw a Kurumaya from the
stand, and asked him how much she
would have to pay to ride to Okubo.

"Give me fifty sen."

"Don't fool me."

Being much provoked, Oyo did not
even turn to the Kurumaya, who called
out something to her from her back, and
walked aimlessly to a side street. See-
ing a little girl with tucks at her shoul-
ders in front of a tobacco shop, she
asked in an almost weeping tone:

"Please, my girl, will you kindly let
me know how to get to Yochomachi of
Okubo?"

"Yochomachi?" said the girl cheer-
fully, "Go straight this way, and going
down a slope you will find a policeman's
post. . . . You had better ask at the
policeman's post."

86

THE BILL-COLLECTING

Oyo felt revived for the first time.
"Thank you ever so much."
Putting an overwhelming sentiment
of thanks into these simple words, Oyo
walked away, looking curiously at the
sights on both sides of the somewhat
narrow street. There was a European
building for moving pictures on one
side. From the lane near to the build-
ing a few geisha girls came out, laugh-
ing about something in loud voices.
Looking at them, Oyo wondered:
"Why are there geisha girls in such a
place?" Suddenly she heard a tremen-
dous noise. Before she could think
what was the matter, she saw many sol-
diers on horseback riding from the open
street to this narrow side street. There
was the gate of a temple at one side of
the beginning of the slope, and, taking
advantage of an open place, Oyo was
87

PAULOWNIA

fortunate enough to get out of the way.
She saw six or seven men employed on
the telegraph wires, squatting on the
earth, eating their luncheon. A bam-
boo ladder was leaned against a wire
pole on the other side of the street.

"Hello! .The beauty!"

Their teasing started Oyo running
away in embarrassment.

"We are receiving an extraordinary
Benten."

"Hey, my girl! May I offer you a
glass?"

Some of them were looking intently
at the folds of her skirts. They could
not contain themselves any longer, when
a sudden wind had brushed aside the
skirts of her underclothes. All of them
burst in at once.

"Luck to see!"

"It is worth two yen at Sinjuku!"
88

THE BILL-COLLECTING

"The red clothes are said to keep
long!" And they continued to say
things which were unbearable to hear.
But is not the procession of the soldiers
endless, stirring up the sand on all
sides? And how much Oyo wished to
escape !

Oyo finally got away from the place
and went down the slope, almost run-
ning, when she suddenly stumbled on a
stone and hardly kept from falling. In
front of it she saw something that
looked like a squirming heap of rags,
which said:

"Ladies and gentlemen, passing by,
please, a penny . . ."

Two or three leper beggars, at whom
one could not bear to look a second time,
were making bows on the sand of the
street. The town at the foot of the
slope was visible, with the dirty roofs
89

PAULOWNIA

in confusion, at the bottom of the val-
ley-like lowland. Oyo wondered with-
out any reason whether the town over
yonder was the outcasts' quarter.

Going down the slope and turning to
the left as she was instructed by the girl
of the tobacco shop she easily found a
policeman's post. As a policeman who
looked good-natured was standing in
the middle of the street, she asked him
her route.

"What number of Yochomachi is it?"

"It is number sixty-two. The house
is Mr. Inuyama's."

"Number sixty-two — then you have
to go straight along this way, and go up
the slope before a big wine-shop."

"I see."

"And let me see, is it the third side
street after you go straight up the
slope? . . . You turn there to the left,
90

THE BILL-COLLECTING

where you will find number sixty-two."

"Much obliged to you."

Before she had gone less than half a
block, she found a wine-shop that looked
like the one she was told about, and
also a slope, so she thought rest of the
route was quite short. Feeling some-
what proud that she had come this far
alone without the Kuruma or without
going much out of the way, she forgot
a while even the fatigue of her legs, but
when she began to go up the slope, she
had to meet another unexpected trouble.

Though the down-town district had
had such continuous clear weather that
it was annoyed by the dust, the up-town
quarter of the city seemed to have had
rain the night before and the street,
which was not broad, was so deep in
mud that Oyo could not even find the
sidewalk. By the time she discovered
91

PAULOWNIA

that the mud was melting frost, which
had not had time to dry, not only the
toes of her new wooden clogs, but also
her white socks newly washed, were all
splashed with mud. On one side of the
road was the bank covered with sepiaria
and on the other side was a cryptomeria
hedge, where, taking advantage of the
fact that there were no passers-by, Oyo
took out her pocket-papers and wiped,
she knew not how often, the mud from
the mat lining of her wooden clogs. As
she glanced up she thought the third
side street to which she had been di-
rected by the policeman might be the
corner she sought.

92

THE BILL-COLLECTING

III

The mud of the melting frost became
harder and harder. A big, masterless
dog was roaming about with a menacing
look. The rasping sounds of a violin
were heard. The dreary sigh of the
wind came from the trees near by. Far
at the end of the side street the ground
seemed to slope again, and, though the
winter sunshine was falling gently on
the roofs of the new houses and on the
deep forest that covered the rears of all
the houses, either side of the road was
dark in shade, and all the houses were
surrounded with fences of four-inch
boards. Each had a small gate contain-
ing a slide-door, the faces of which
were smeared with mud that had not
been washed off, which seemed to
93

PAULOWNIA

have been placed there in mischief
by the boys in the neighborhood.

The number and name of the house,
which Oyo found at last, after examin-
ing all the labels on the houses on both
sides, was on the support of the small
gate, where the mud was splashed thick-
est and dirtiest.

Inuyama Takemasa. . . .

Oyo looked at it again before she en-
tered the gate. The gentleman called
Mr. Inuyama was the most captious,
unsympathetic and unreasonable among
the numerous guests that came to
Kinugawa. No matter how busy they
were in attendance in the parlors, he
would not be satisfied if he could not call
up Oyo and all the other maids into his
room. If the mistress did not come to
salute him every time he came he would
be angry and say : "You insult me," or
94

THE BILL-COLLECTING

"You treat me coldly." It was said that
he gave up his membership in the parlia-
ment as it did not suit his dignity. His
profession at present was that of a poli-
tician. He was fond of geishas as
young as babies, and if the girls did not
obey his will, he was so furious that no-
body could touch him, and Oyo not only
despised him more than any of the other
guests, but also was afraid, without any
reason, of his forbidding appearance
and loud voice. He always wore Euro-
pean clothes and used to come in a
Kuruma pulled by two drawers, saying
that the lower class of people ride in
the trolley. Once in a certain conver-
sation, when the mistress had said to
him that "in these days not only the
expenses of your pleasure and the tips
for geisha become dearer, but even your

95

PAULOWNIA

expense for Kuruma must be very con-
siderable," he laughed :

"Mistress, the money is earned to
spend. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha !"

But these prosperous days were no
longer. When it was hardly December

of that year, Mr. Inuyama suddenly

«

stopped coming, and in spite of many
letters he would not respond to the bill
of two hundred yen of that month and
the fifty-yen balance of the previous
month. Kinugawa was obliged to talk
it over with a geisha who first brought
Mr. Inuyama after their meeting at a
certain Matsumotoro, but, it was almost
clear that she could not shake her sleeve
when she had none, and so January
passed in this way, and now it was Feb-
ruary. The mistress sent Oyo to the
mansion of Mr. Inuyama to recon-

noiter.

96

THE BILL-COLLECTING

Oyo had known numerous cases of
this kind, not only of men like Mr. Inu-
yama, but also of many other guesfs.
She thought this nothing more than the
bad ways of people. She thought only
that they will be enjoying themselves at
some other house, if they do not come
to hers, then, it will be good of them if
they will be more considerate and pay
the bill. The reason Oyo looked again
at the label on the gate was the fact that
the gate of his mansion was so dirty.
But, to enter the gate was better than
the annoyance of walking around aim-
lessly any longer in the frost-melting
road, so she looked around from the
porch with its dirty and broken paper-
screen, wondering which was the serv-
ants' entrance.

On the right hand, beyond the bam-
boo fence, was visible the roof of a one-
97

PAULOWNIA

storied house looking cold under the
garden trees. She got a glimpse of an
old red blanket and a dirty cotton gown
hung on a clothes-pole, through the
crevices of the bamboo fence. On the
left hand, further on, were one-storied
houses with lattice gates, and another
that looked like a rented house. Be-
side the wheel-well, where the plum-
blossoms showed their buds, a fish-
monger was cutting a salted salmon.
Two maidservants in careless Hisashi-
gami, who carried babies under quilted
gowns and wore European aprons
which had become gray, seemed to be at
the height of their silly conversation
with the fishmonger. As soon as they
caught sight of Oyo, whose appearance
was quite different, they sharpened their
eyes, and, seeming rather to fear her,
looked her over attentively from top to
98

THE BILL-COLLECTING

toe. The road from the well to the serv-
ants' entrance was spread with straw
bags of charcoal, and the muddy water
of the melting frost ran into the feet of
people walking on them. Being in much
perplexity Oyo could not move a step,
and bending her waist, said:

"I beg your pardon."

Both of the maidservants stood won-
der-stricken with open mouths.

"Is this Mr. Inuyama's house?"

Suddenly one of the maidservants be-
gan to grow uneasy, and, perceiving her
manner, Oyo said:

"I came with a message from Kyo-
bashi. Is the master at home?"

"He is absent."

Then the baby on her back began to
cry.

Oyo, as she was ordered by the mis-
tress, remembered how to proceed when
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PAULOWNIA

she was told the master was absent,
namely, to call madam to the servants'
entrance and leave the word that she was
the messenger from Mizuta, which was
the name of her mistress. However, as
Oyo was only eighteen or nineteen, she
felt somewhat timid and stood on the
walk, forgetting even that the water of
the melting frost was overflowing on her
polished wooden clogs. The baby on
the back of the maidservant cried more
and more.

"Chiyo! Chiyo!" Suddenly, a voice
of woman, close to her ears, aroused her.

Being astonished, Oyo turned and
saw at the broken paper-screens of the
servants' entrance not farther than six
inches, the big face of woman, like a
horse, with the eyes widely separated
from each other. The careless Hisa-
shigami could not be beaten by the maid-
100

THE BILL-COLLECTING

servants. She was a big, clumsy
madam in a dirty and creased Hifu.

Just then, the fishermonger came to
offer three slices of the salted salmon to
madam. Madam continued talking
with the fishermonger, and Oyo, at last
somewhat aroused and feeling at the
same time a sense of deep disappoint-
ment, went out from the gate as if to
escape. For she felt that her troubles
in coming so far had been all in vain.
She was exceedingly sorry for her mis-
tress, as she had been entirely deceived
by this humbug.

When Oyo rode again in the trolley
she felt, at first, the fatigue of the vain
effort and at the same time the fact that
she was unbearably hungry, but being
unable to do anything about it, she ar-
rived at Ginza. The sun was already
declining. Calling to her mind the
101

PAULOWNIA

clockstand of Hattori, which she saw
when she was waiting for the car that
morning, she looked up, and lo! was it
not already near to four o'clock! Oyo
felt her heart sinking with melancholy,
picturing in her mind the flash of her
mistress' eye, who never would say to
her: "How early you are!" when she
returned from the far-away errand.
The electric lights were already lit in the
shops. . . .

102

UKIYOE

UKIYOE
By NAGAI KAFU

[The following sketches were written
on seeing a collection of famous prints,
which were exhibited at the Imperial
Museum during the month of April in
the forty-fourth year of Meiji (1911) ].

THE WOMAN OF UTAMARO

TT7HAT a languid sweetness!
What a dreamy pensiveness!
The Woman of Utamaro almost swoon-
ing, tortured, benumbed by that fulness
of pleasure which stirs all the sensibili-
ties of a body called woman! O, the
Woman of Utamaro!
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PAULOWNIA

Your body is only of soft, soft skin,
of smooth, smooth flesh. Is your soul
melted and your bone lost? When you
are sitting, you twist your body and
bend your neck ; you are always leaning
against a pillar, a railing or a chamber
window, sitting with upraised knee to
attract attention to the roundness of the
thigh bigger than the waist, and expos-
ing with such indifference the fair white-
ness of the calf.

When you are standing you are won-
derfully tall. The long sleeves! The
trailing skirts! Though the dress you
wear is, sometimes, a thin, transparent
gauze, through which your arms, your
bosom, and even the crimson crape on
your waist are seen, still you hardly
seem able to support its weight, and I
fear lest you fall.

Though your hair is always dressed so
106

UKIYOE

faultlessly that there is not a single
stray lock, you never try to adjust your
loosened sash. Are not the folds of your
undergarments open and your dress al-
most slipping down from your shoul-
ders? What are you looking at when
you stretch your long neck as you lift
up your face? Is it the landscape, the
ferryboat on the Sumida river, or do you
hear the bustling sounds of Ryogoku?
Nay, nay, your small, slender eyes must
be following after the shadows of the
dream that will never come to an end.
No wonder that you cover your mouth
with one of your sleeves whenever you
have to speak, as if to say: "I cannot
speak so shameful a thing." No won-
der that you hesitate, touching the long
hairpin with your slender fingers.

You seem to avoid the sunshine be-
cause it is too bright, and the blue color
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of the sky because it is too deep. O,
the goddess of pleasure of the land of
Shamisen, for whom even the blowing
wind seems to soften when he observes
your too delicate figure! Standing in
the twilight of fear and shame and se-
crecy, the passive Woman of Utamaro
is lamenting the once tempting pleas-
ure, the lingering dream.

THE FLOWEB VIEWING

The shade of a huge cherry tree
blooming in the fullest flower. An af-
ternoon of a beautiful spring day. A
sudden gale of wind scatters the snow
of the falling flowers without reserve or
compunction. Alas! Alas! It is as
though we behold all the sorrows of the
world before our eyes. Lifting her long
sleeves of Furisode, a little princess of
108

UKIYOE

about fourteen or fifteen years is turn-
ing her face aslant with her black hair
that seems overweighted with orna-
ments; from right and left, the court
ladies in Maruwage, in their bloom of
middle age, are covering the princess
surprised by the wind with their sleeves
of Uchikake as a fence, shaking off the
snow of the falling flowers. To-day will
be the last of the flower-viewing for
this year. Leaving the poem in lam-
entation of the spring, now, let us
go!

A pretty attendant maid of about
seventeen or eighteen years is trying to
fasten on a branch of the cherry tree, a
Tanzaku, on which the poem of parting
with spring is written by the princess.
But the cherry branch is higher than
the height of a plump maiden at seven-
teen or eighteen. How can she reach it,
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though she stretch herself so? . . . One
of the attendant maids is on a cask of
the sweet wine, on which is written Dai
kanai, or Great Luck. The other is on
the shoulder of a beautiful lad, who
looks almost like a girl.

At last the maid on the cask seems
able to fasten the Tanzaku on the
branch. The wind of the falling flowers
blows her skirts and sleeves like pen-
nants. Squatting on the earth, one of
the attendant maids is holding the
rather small cask lest it fall, but her
heavy sleeves are being blown by the
violent wind ; the maid on the cask seems
about to lose her balance.

As her white legs are nearly peep-
ing forth from the flowing linings of the
fluttering skirts, she catches in one hand
the branch and in the other she holds
her skirts, bending her slender body and
110

UKIYOE

passing the toes of her feet firmly bent
inward, she struggles to jump down
quickly from her dangerous position.

But see! The more fortunate one is
the attendant maid, on the shoulder of
the beautiful lad. The attendant lad,
who has been raised up to be a toy of
women in the innermost chamber of the
palace where there is no one but women,
is holding the attendant maid's waist
firmly in his two hands as high as his
pliant shoulders; his face is downcast,
aslant. How lovely is his mouth, tight-
ened at the corners, showing the full
force of his exertion in his features,
more delicate than those of a woman.
The rapture of heart and the pulsation
of the bosom of the lifted maid is shown
in the entanglement of her sleeves and
skirts, and the long knotted thongs
tossed by the wind. In spite of her en-
Ill

PAULOWNIA

deavor, with both hands holding the
Tanzaku, she does not seem able to
fasten it on the branch.

O, the calm inner garden in the
spring, the blowing storm, the scatter-
ing cherry blossoms, the princess sur-
prised by the wind! The attendant
maid on the cask! The beautiful lad
lifting up the maid! Ah! The sym-
pJionia of the delightful curves and the
faded colors, all revealed by the print of
Toyokuni the first! The dream of the
pleasure of the days that are no more !

NIGHT

The bed chamber of women.

Making the narrow room appear nar-
rower in the short night near to the
dawn, the bamboo, painted on the six-
fold screen, outspread, conceals the
112

UKIYOE

Ando-light, which is as motionless as
though it were tired.

The hanging Komon garments are
flowing comfortably in the softness of a
thing called silk, in the stifling warmth
of the closed chamber.

From the faded color of the red silk,
stealthily rises the odor of the skin and
the remnant of the perfumes from pow-
dered necks. Pleasantly they evapo-
rate and drift through the darkness of
the chamber where there is no man.
Without even adjusting the loosened
night dress, the pliant half bodies of two
women slip out from the turned-back
bedclothes of crimson crepe that look
like pomegranates, bursting by ripened
maturity, breathing flames.

"Come, get up. The cuckoo bird is
cooing."

"What a gloomy sound. Will you
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lift up the lamp-wick? I feel I am still
dreaming."

By the light of Ando trimmed, Ihe
sound of the bird of night which is not
a dream, has ceased, and from the Toko-
noma, the place for decoration, the pe-
ony flowers in a bronze vase show their
gorgeous petals, almost terrifying in
their bloom. At the bedside is a picture
of love in an uncovered book of ro-
mance, left as it was the evening before
when she was reading it. Already come
the sounds of a drum from the shrine
of Seishoko near by !

No matter how the night of May hur-
ries to the dawn, in comfortable sleep
in bed where the mind loosens like a
thong, in the bed-chamber of women
without man, the day breaks not yet.

"Lo, the Ando ! The oil is gone."

114

A DOMESTIC ANIMAL

A DOMESTIC ANIMAL
By SHIMAZAKI TOSON

HER first misfortune was at her
birth; she came into the world
with short gray hair, overhanging ears,
and fox-like eyes. Every animal which
is called by favor domestic has a cer-
tain quality which attracts to itself the
friendly feeling of man. But she did
not have it. Nothing in her counte-
nance seemed to be favored by man.
She was entirely lacking in the usual
qualifications of a domestic animal.
Naturally she was deserted.

However, she was also a dog, an ani-
mal which cannot live by itself. She
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PAULOWNIA

could not leave the hereditary habitat to
be fed by people and then go back to
the wild native place of her remote an-
cestors. She began to search after a
suitable human house.

This troublesome being strayed to the
estate of Kin san, a planter, when the
building of the new wood-roofed rent
house was just finished. The house was
built along the village road of Okubo,
located in such a manner as to enable
one to go to the main street through
the back yard. The floor was high and
the ground was dry. Moreover, there
was a narrow, dark, unoccupied space
at the foot of the fence between this
house and the next, so that she could
promptly hide herself in an emergency.
She lost no time in occupying this un-
derground refuge.

The urgent necessity was to get the
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A DOMESTIC ANIMAL

food. There were two more rent houses
on this estate, which made four with the
farm-like main house where Kin san's
family lived. These houses stood each
against the other, and trees with grace-
ful branches were between them. Her
sharp nose taught her first the direction
toward the kitchen. As she was hun-
gry, there was no time for choice.
Peeled skins of fruits, cold, evil-smell-
ing soup, corrupt remnants of dishes —
she ate everything she could get. If
these were not enough to satisfy her, she
smelt around even the dust heap, and
hunted as far as she could hunt. Some
dirty socks were soaked in the wash-tub
beside the well. Gladly, she drank the
water from the tub.

There was an old Mokusei in the
garden. She decided to make of their
shade her resting place; stretching
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PAULOWNIA

out her four legs on the ground, which
was warmed by the sunshine through the
leaves, she sighed or scratched the itchy
spots. When it was evening she entered
her underground retreat and lay down
on the charcoal bags which were under
the floor above. A large wash-tub she
also tried. Sometimes she crept as far
as the passage under the kitchen floor,
and slept on the charcoals in the warm
charcoal box. Thus she began her
life.

Kin san's family, at this time, kept a
piebald dog of brown and white, whose
name was Pochi. This lively Pochi was
the only being who welcomed her.
Pochi seemed to have a sociable nature ;
he approached her politely scratching
the ground. She made her return greet-
ing by shaking her dirty tail.

But Kin san and the others who lived
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A DOMESTIC ANIMAL

on his estate did not receive her as
Pochi did. "Isn't it a great loss to be
ugly, even among the animals," re-
marked one. "I might keep her, if she
were a bit better,'* said another. All
this was meaningless to her, and she was
called Pup by these people who did not
know. Each of the four houses had an
"aunt," which was the name given to
the hostess of the family. Not only
these aunts, but also their children,
laughed at and hated her and burst out
railingly, calling her "Pup, pup." As
for the "uncles," they were more dread-
ful. The least relaxing of her vigilance
caused them to chase her. Many things
were thrown at her, — stones, clumps of
clay, the iron firestick. Once a big club
of the door guard was flung after her,
and made a wound on her hind leg.
Gradually, she understood the human
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PAULOWNIA

mind. The significant twist of the
mouth, a gesture as if to pick up some-
thing, the shrugging of shoulders and
the bitten lips — all sentiments expressed
against her — showed to her the deep
enmity of the hunter. One day she was
almost driven to bay in Kin san's
kitchen. Nobody knows how she was
able to find the means of escape ! Peo-
ple were crying: "Bring the rope — the
rope, the rope!'* She was desperate,
and, running through the garden, where
were the dwarf trees, she went toward
the hot-house ; turning around the barn,
she escaped to the fields, where were the
flowers to be sold on fete days.

"Gone, at last !" said one of the uncles.
"Isn't she a troublesome thing?" replied
Kin san, who laughed like a good-na-
tured man.

It was not only once or twice that she
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A DOMESTIC ANIMAL

met such hard experiences. But she was
not a dog to be crushed down by this
kind of hardship. She would hunt
around for food with calm composure,
with the appearance of saying: "This
is my own territory." Boldly she
stepped into the new kitchen of the rent
house, or went up to the veranda with
her dirty feet. She bit off the laces from
the garden slippers, and played with the
washed things of the aunts, smearing
them with mud and dust. She had no
regard for the human children. This
family had a girl named Ko chan, who
liked to come out to play in the yard, in
big wooden clogs trailing on the ground.
She chased this girl for fun. Some-
times, Ko chan would bring out a piece
of tasty-looking cake and show it to her.
"Look here! Look here, Pup!"
Instantly she jumped at Ko chan.
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"Oh, Pup is wicked, mamma!"

This was always Ko chan's cry for
help. Then the aunt came hastily and
called Ko chan.

"Run away, Ko chan! — quick! Why
do you wear such big clogs?" By this
time poor Ko chan had nothing left.
She had taken the cake from the crying
Ko chan, thus securing the sweets which
are eaten by man. At such time, she
usually licked the top of her nose with
her red tongue.

Nevertheless, there was no intention
of good or evil in her actions. These
words she heard from the uncles and
aunts of the estate, but nothing about
them was known to her. She had no
understanding of the etiquette and civil-
ity created by man. She was only a
dog. Whether her action was impolite
or not, that was not a question. She
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A DOMESTIC ANIMAL

was only a poor animal, acting accord-
ing to its nature.

The cold, scanty, miserable winter
passed while she suffered this "better go
away" treatment. It was a wonder that
she did not die from hunger. The beg-
ging priest who used to come to Okubo
every morning said that even he did not
get much. As to the humble woman
who took a child with her, she was re-
fused mostly by "no business," or
"nothing doing." Even human beings
were in a sad state. How, then, could
they spare to this ignorant and useless
animal, this embarrassing dog, a bowl-
ful of their cold rice? She roamed on
the snow in the far-off places, and ate
everything, even the skins of the orange.

Meanwhile, the spring has come. And
at the time when the frost began to melt
she seemed to be quite grown up. All
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PAULOWNIA

the dogs, from Kin san's Pochi to Kuro
of the bathing house, Aka of the timber-
dealer's, and the fearful big dog which
was kept at the neighboring planter's,
gathered around her. Wherever she
goes, she is followed by two or three
dogs. So a comfortable place like that
shade of Mokusei was overflowing with
deep groans of dogs that sounded as if
they wished to whisper or to flatter.

An aunt who came to the well-side
with a hand-pail in her hand, saw this
sight.

"My!" she said. "Pup was a female
dog! I never noticed that !"

And the aunt of the new rent house,
who happened to be there, also said :

"Neither did I !"

And the two aunts laughed, greatly
amused.

She ought to be banished. Such was
126

A DOMESTIC ANIMAL

the argument which was raised in the
estate of Kin san. Among the members
of the four families, however, the argu-
ments raged between two parties, the
uncles and the aunts. According to the
point of view which was insisted upon
by the aunts, it was now different. She
was not in the condition she was for-
merly, and it would be too pitiful if she
were to have a baby. As is expected of
those with experience, the aunts were
sympathetic, comparing her with them-
selves. That may be so, but how awful
it would be if she gave birth to chil-
dren ! This was the opinion held by the
uncles. Indeed, there was nobody who
was not anxious about her future.

She did not know anything about this.

Another day, a carriage stopped at
the door of Kin san. There was some-
thing like a lidless box on this carriage,
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PAULOWNIA

which was covered with a dirty straw
mat. Her quick nose smelt out what
was in the carriage.

Following after a policeman in uni-
form came a dubious looking man, who
entered the house. But she was not
roaming in such a dangerous place.
Pochi, Kuro and the other dogs began
to cry all at once. Now, uncles, aunts,
and all people of the village came
out.

"Dog hunter, mammal"

Ko chan hid herself behind her mother.

People ran around the garden. Kin
san's daughter, whose daily duty it was
to water the flowers, ran out to the street
with a dipper in her hand. A middle-
school boy, who was painting a water-
color picture, followed them, flinging
away his tripod.

"Thither she escaped, hither she rani"
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A DOMESTIC ANIMAL

The confusion itself was very extraor-
dinary.

"Surely, Pup is killed," Ko chan
said, trembling.

At last, she has escaped. A man with
big oak club in his hand, shook his head
to his companion. "No use, no use," the
policeman said and laughed when he
went out the gate. With disappointed
looks the two men drew away the empty
carriage.

Anyway she had .escaped with her life.
And, by and by, her bosom became
larger. Her eyes began to be shaded
with the restless color. Now she must
guard not only herself, but also her
children within her womb. Thus the
pleasant shade of Mokusei was no more
the place for security. Even when she
was comfortably lying on the moist
earth, breathing out her agony for a
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PAULOWNIA

while, she stood up as soon as she saw the
shadow of a man. She could not be neg-
ligent even for a moment. To her eyes,
there was nothing as merciless and cruel
as the human being.

But, in spite of her fear, she could not
leave the human house. How at ease
she would be if, like other animals, she
could go to a distant forest and give
birth amid the green trees and grasses !
Thus it might seem to the looker-on,
but it was not so with her, she was
unable to change her inherited na-
ture.

It was just at the beginning of June
that she finished her duty of mother-
hood. Four puppies appeared in the
hot-house of Kin san. Two of them
were beautiful piebald puppies of
brown and white like that of Pochi, one
was entirely black, and the other was of
130

A DOMESTIC ANIMAL

ambiguous gray, very much like her-
self!

Ah, it was in the morning of her
motherhood that she first saw the smiles
of human beings. It was also in that
morning of her motherhood that she
first had nourishing food since her
birth.

"Pup — come, come."

Opening the paper screen of the
kitchen, the aunt at Kin san's began to
call her, as she has called her since that
day.

131

TSUGARU STRAIT

TSUGARU STRAIT
BY SHIMAZAKI TOSON

AS my wife is hard of hearing, she
cannot understand what I say un-
less I speak close to her ear, in rather a
loud voice.

Though the time to go on board the
ship was approaching, she was still lean-
ing on the window at the first floor of
the inn, and would not even prepare to
start. Vacantly she was contemplating
the sight of the dark green sea, the sea-
mews flying in groups, and the Suru-
gamaru, the regular liner, which was
about to start for Hakodate, ready to
take us two on board. At such times,
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PAULOWNIA

she is always weeping, calling to her
mind our departed son. This I no-
ticed by the sight of her back. I stroked
her on the shoulder and urged her to
start.

"Come. Get ready, get ready!"
The day was perfect for a voyage. It
was the time when the regular steam-
ship lines were interrupted by the rumor
that the Russian ships from Vladivos-
tock, which not long before had passed
through Tsugaru Strait, were appearing
now and then along the Pacific coast.
During five or six days only was this
line between Awomori and Hakodate
in operation. As it was disappointing
to my wife and myself to go home after
having come so far, and as the Russian
ships were said to be cruising on the
open sea in the vicinity of Oshima and
the Izu Islands — the very night before
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TSUGARU STRAIT

we had heard that the fleet of the enemy
was sunk, the announcement of which
some of the newspapers printed in an
extra — we left the inn, not worrying
about the ships, trusting somewhat to
the truth of the statements in the ex-
tra.

There were soldiers in the streets in
sober khaki-colored summer uniform,
watching us hurrying toward the pier.
As my wife was walking in meditation,
her slowness somewhat irritated me.
She suddenly stopped and this is what
she said:

"Ah! Ah! If only Ryunosuke were
living I would bring him with us to a
place like this and give him pleasure."

She sighed. Ryunosuke was the
name of our son. I did not know what
to do and, putting my mouth close to
her ear, as if to scold her, I said:
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PAULOWNIA

"You will try me if you keep con-
stantly calling him to mind !"

Instantly, my wife flushed.

"Oh! You are so cruel! I am liv-
ing only because of the consolation of
his memory. If you wish me not to
speak of him, bid me die."

My wife is tiresome, for she is just
a baby, and I am only a nurse who is
taking care of this infant of forty years,

"Tut! tut! How could you say such
a thing in the street ? Look, everybody
is turning and laughing at us."

I spoke thus, but the words were not
heard by my wife. Ah !

Nothing is so hard to foresee as hu-
man life. We never expected such a
sad end to our son, nor did we ever
dream of going together for this jour-
ney. It was caused by chance. The
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TSUGARU STRAIT

daily accidents, who can understand
them? It was unforeseen that we
should pass a night at this far eastern
port of Oshu. It was unforeseen that
we should go aboard this ship. Above
all, it was unforeseen that we should be
crossing Tsugaru Strait.

It was not long before the boat
started. She left the shore with the
brave shouts of the boatmen, in the
Nanbu accent. The sailors of the ship
were leaning on the bulwark, looking
down at the approaching boats filled
with passengers. Unfortunately, the
first and the second classes were both
full on that day. Although I was some-
what fearful, on account of traveling
with my wife, to take the third class and
be treated like cargo, I concluded from
experience that nothing is better than
the deck in such fine weather. In-
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stantly upon our arrival on the
steamer, we took our places at the
prow.

Meanwhile, upon the stroke of the
bell announcing ten o'clock, the noisy
sounds of the weighing anchor were
heard. The steam whistle was blown
as if to bid farewell, and it resounded
through the sky overhanging the har-
bor. The ship began to sail.

The deck where we took our place
was near to the mast, larger than one
could reach around. When the cool
wind blew from the southwest, sending
the gay sunshine with the breezes, I
felt at last somewhat revived. We
spread the mat under the canvas shades
and rested ourselves, leaning on some
of the cargo. After a while I wanted to
have a smoke, but, searching around my
waist, I found there was no tobacco
140

TSUGARU STRAIT

pouch. Then, gazing at my face, my
wife said:

"You see? Surely you have left it
again at the inn," and she smiled.

This was quite a surprise to me. I
thought I was very composed, But, al-
though I was constantly scolding my
wife to brace her up, it was proved by
this oversight that my own dejection
was more than that of hers. "Now,
then," I thought, "I myself must be
somewhat queer," and I suddenly felt
dispirited. The more I tried not to be
overcome, the more my brain was op-
pressed with deep chagrin. No doubt I
was becoming an idiot.

The ship sailed out from the gulf of
Awomori, leaving behind the lighthouse
of Hiradate, white in the distance; the
sun was mounting higher in tKe sky.
The dark blue waves of the Japan cur-
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PAULOWNIA

rent rolled in from the Sea of Japan,
broke resoundingly against the side of
the ship, and sparkled in the sunshine.
In the lazy hours of the voyage, people
came and went on the deck, pausing to
admire the view. I also leaned on the
bulwark and listened to the sounds of
the summer tides, filling my mind with
the voice of the late July sea. Sud-
denly, my thoughts were possessed by
my son. Bitter recollections gushed up
in my heart. It may sound strange,
coming from a parent's lips, but, al-
though he was only a boy when he died,
he was clever enough to understand the
joy and sorrow of life; my Ryunosuke
was not a boy to be beaten by his fel-
low students in any of his studies.

Observing the world, I notice that
the present age, lacking in faith, does
not keep the young mind in quietude.
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TSUGARU STRAIT

Such was the short life of my son. Such
an insatiable spirit as his could not help
investigating the meaning of life, from
exploring all its works, its glories, and
its decadences. Leaving the curious
multitudes, who looked upon him as a
great fool in his misconceptions, how
did he feel when he retired from this
life, silently, with unutterable sorrow in
his mind?

The desperation of thought — if the
word could be applied also to the life
of this youth — this was certainly the
transient but brave span of Ryunosuke.
Pity that he was not a sage! He dis-
covered that his learning made him ig-
norant. Alas! my son quit his studies
and his studies quit him. At last he
went to Nikkwo, and died by throwing
himself into the fall of Kegon. I shall
never forget that day when my son came
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PAULOWNIA

home quite unexpectedly, and bade us
farewell without telling us his intention,
nor that evening when I gave him my
last reproof. The next morning, and
the second morning — there has been
grief in every morning since that time.
My wife became crazed, weeping and
crying.

"It is your fault that you gave him
such a reproof! Give me back my son
alive, now, at once!"

It was inevitable. We were com-
pelled to constrain her by force; we
wrapped her in quilts, holding her; we
scolded and cajoled her. But the
strength of the crazed woman was al-
most more than ours. I myself did not
eat nor sleep regularly for seven days.
Indeed, the condition of my wife at that
time was such that it would not have
been impossible for her to have followed
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TSUGARU STRAIT

our son, to have thrown herself into the
waterfall of Nikkwo mountain. When
she became a bit calmer I thought of a
plan, which was this journey. I hoped
that her distressed mind might be cured
by seeing some of the famous places.
As she had exquisite taste, in spite of
her appearance, I thought I might be
able to buy some Obi, or sashes, if
she cared for them. Inducing her
to see the modern fashions, hoping
to quiet her, we started out on this
journey.

Alas, my son! After he had passed
through the bitterest sufferings, at the
moment he came to think about 9eath,
even he could hardly have dreamed of
his father becoming an idiot, and his
mother a lunatic, weeping during the
day, thinking during the night, and
roaming thus far to the northern sea.
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PAULOWNIA

I, who am speaking this, am only a
man who has spent a most ordinary but
peaceful and quiet life in the country.
How could I foresee that this peaceful
life would change abruptly in its forty-
third year? Seeking relief, we felt like
wandering pilgrims. Inhaling the sea
air of July, two fools were listening to
the dreamy sounds of the waves, medi-
tating upon the death of their only
child.

Strange imaginings came into my
mind. If the dead body should float up
from the basin of that waterfall, ancl be
borne away by the current, where would
it go? Nowhere but into this ocean!
Yes, yes, this restless place of wind and
wave ; this must be the grave of my son !
Here Ryunosuke must be sleeping for
ever and ever . . . thus, in fancy, I was
indulging my thoughts when the bell of
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TSUGARU STRAIT

twelve o'clock resounded through the
ship.

For lunch, a Bento in a square lunch-
eon-box, was distributed to each of the
passengers. We could not eat ours on
account of the boiled cuttle-fish. But
two young men, who came with their
own luncheons, took their seat close to
us, and began to eat with gusto. One
of them looked as though he were ac-
customed to labor. He reminded me of
"Ankosan," the young men who are
said, after indulgence in wine and
women, to draw the snow-sledges at
such a place as Goryokaku.

The other boy looked two or three
years younger than his friend, and
seemed just about the age of my son.
Apparently, he was a student, as was
shown by his naive appearance. And
then, the youthfulness of the expres-
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sion about his eyes when he looked at
the sea through his spectacles, was sin-
gularly like that of Ryunosuke. There
is such a thing as the "haunting resem-
blance of the stranger." However, I
was quite surprised in my own mind,
wondering whether it was possible for
anyone else to see such a resemblance.
How I gazed, rubbing my eyes, at the
silhouette of the student !

As for my wife, I looked at her and
saw she entertained the same feeling.
When we looked at each other, we un-
derstood our mutual thought without a
word. Ah! it is unreasonable that I
should meet my dead son on this ship,
and it was a trick of my imagination
that caused me to think that only if I
should address him, he would speak to
me saying: "Father! Father!" anoT, tak-
ing my hand, would complain of the
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mysteries and fears and agonies of the
other world. "Surely he is my son, my
Ryunosuke." Such an absurd thought
could only spring from the foolish heart
of a parent. I do not know how often
I repeated "Ryunosuke! Ryunosuke!"
in my mind. I was tempted to cry out
in a loud voice, and was astonished at
my own absurdity.

At last I addressed the young man.

"Pardon me. Where do you come
from?"

"I?" the student smiled. "I came
from Goshu."

' ' Goshu ? Then you came from a long
way off!"

"Yes. I have an uncle in Sendai,
and came up to ask his assistance, but
as I found him absent, being called out
for war . . . Anyway, I am going up
to Hokkaido to try to find some work
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there. I have been told that there is
profitable employment at Sapporo. If
I cannot find work in Sapporo, I may
go even to Asahigawa."

"Is that so? Young men ought to be
that way. You do not need to worry.
You will find plenty of work, if only
you have a mind to do it."

Thus, comforting him, I recognized
the simple, cheerful, and yet manly tem-
perament of this student. Now and
then the older companion glanced
stealthily toward us with distrustful
looks. I could not understand why this
student had such a companion. I in-
quired of him, and was told that they
became comrades by chance. They
seemed not especially friends nor men
from the same district; in other words,
they were only fellow wanderers.

My wife took out some apples from
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her package. These were bought the
evening before, at Awomori, from a bas-
ket when we were surrounded by the
women who sell fruits., Ryunosuke was
fond of things with a delicate flavor,
which my wife seemed to remember.
As if to give them to her son, she se-
lected the alluring yellow apples from
the green ones and recommendecl them
to the two young men. I told the
younger one in detail of the loss of my
son and the reason of starting on this
journey with my wife, who cannot hear
well, and added:

"This also must be the work of fate,
to meet you in this place. Please
take one of them. Don't be cere-
monious."

"Come, they are so kind. Let us ac-
cept them," said the companion, as he
pushed forth impudently.
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"Please do so," I urged them, offer-
ing my knife.

My wife was leaning on me like a
child, and gazing at the hands of the
student paring the apple. Tears of
memory seemed to flow ceaselessly
down her cheeks. Forgetting every-
thing, even our bodies, we longed for the
recalled face of our son whom we never
expected to see in this world.

The student and his companion bit
the apples like hungry animals, so that
even the crunching sounded delicious,
and ate them heartily with vigor and ap-
petite.

"Sweet! Isn't it?" Whispering to
his companion, the student smelfed the
flavor of the apple, squinting his
eyes.

"Sweet!" The companion also tasted
his eagerly.

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By the time the one o'clock bell had
rung, all of the passengers were tired
of their journey; some of them were ly-
ing down with their packages as pil-
lows, some were sleeping on the deck
with their mouths open like fishes. The
reports of the Russo-Japanese War,
which were much discussed about the
mast, had entirely ceased. There was
nobody on this ship who did not desire
speedily to reach Hakodate. The only
passengers who wished to continue the
journey as long as possible in this way
were ourselves; that was because we
knew there were only three hours more
to be with this young man, and be re-
minded of Ryunosuke. After parting
from him here, we were not sure that we
should ever meet him again; nay, not
only should we never see again our son,
but we should probably never again in
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our lives see the face that resembled his.

"You are gazing at something, aren't
you?"

The student stepped out and patted
the shoulder of his companion. The
companion turned to him.

"Look at that smoke.'*

"Smoke?"

"It is strange that smoke appears in
this direction."

"Let me see ! Where — no, there is no
smoke, nothing like it."

"Why, can't you see it?"

Wondering at the conversation of
these two men, I also left the side of
the mast. Far off to the east of the
Strait the dark "Father Tide"— on
which groups of cuttle-fish are accus-
tomed to ride down, that Kurile tide
dipping the horizon, — shone white and
yellow, under the rays of the sun.
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Groups of clouds were floating in the
sky. The excessive heat of a mid-sum-
mer noon on the thirtieth of July,
seemed to burn the sea. The sky above
the horizon was a dark gray, mingled
with purple. The air was hazy, but
nothing like smoke was to be seen. Be-
fore I realized it, the captain, who, for
some time had been reading "The Law
of General Average," went up to the
bridge, and was eagerly looking through
the marine glass.

Suddenly, we felt uneasy. The ship
had probably sailed at a fair speed
since leaving Awomori. When she was
sailing at full speed toward Cape Oma,
which was on her starboard side, the
cloud of smoke was seen exactly in that
direction. After twenty minutes, a sec-
ond smoke appeared, then a third. The
Vladivostock fleet, which was said to
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have appeared along the coast of the
Pacific Ocean, was slowly sailing from
Cape Oma to Cape Tatsuhi. Ap-
proaching nearer, the ships became
more distinct. When the three gray
ships of the enemy, of portentous ap-
pearance, were seen approaching our
defenseless vessel, sailors and passen-
gers all stood up. The battle formation
of the enemy was in single line. First
came the Rossia, then the Gron-
boi — with the Riurick a little behind
them.

Joyful or sad memories or imaginings
were all blotted out by this unexpected
view. Nobody remained in the dark
cabin. Forgetting the vertigo, the nau-
sea, and the sufferings of fatigue, the
hundred and fifty passengers came out
at once on deck. All those who have
been standing at the stern passed
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through the kitchen and pressed toward
the prow.

"Go down! Go down! Go down if
you want to save your life!"

But the cries and scoldings of the sail-
ors could not control the confusion of
the excited men, screaming women and
children. The dreadful sound oF the
engine gave an added touch of gloom.
As the enemy were known to be such
vicious fighters that they sank even the
sailing boat Seishomaru and robbed it
of the money and cargo, all on board
felt that there was no time for delay.
They bared their feet, and tucked up
their skirts, in order to be as prepared as
possible.

"I will take charge of your
wife."

The words of the student were Hardly
heard. Having already lost her color,
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my wife stood shuddering, close to the
student.

Death — we were face to face with
that force ! A group of sailors took off
the duck rain-covers from the lifeboats
to prepare them for lowering at any mo-
ment. As it was the captain's hope to
be within the limit of the protection of
the fort, if only the ship could run one
hour more at full speed, the ship dashed
along with all possible speed, nay, even
with a desperate force rather than
speed.

In this dangerous situation there ap-
peared, suddenly, from the direction of
Hakodate, our fleet running in the same
direction as the Russian ships. The
enemy also saw this fleet and, seeming
to hesitate, stopped their advance. The
fact is that it was the time when they
took the last resolution to pass the
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TSUGARU STRAIT

Tsugaru Strait again. Sending up vol-
umes of black smoke, they began all at
once to flee like a flock of birds. With
the exclamation of "Banzai! Banzai!"
all the people on the deck shook their
hats toward our fleet.

"Now, we are safe!"

Turning back to my wife, I sighed
with relief.

"Safe!" I repeated. My wife was
still leaning on the shoulder of the stu-
dent.

As my wife and I, turning again to
the thought of our son, settled down to
spend the few remaining hours in con-
versation with the student, the mount
Gagyu appeared to our view. We
caught sight of the red cliff jutting into
the sea, the rugged precipice from
whose surface the reflection of the sun
shone white on the sky of the port of
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Hakodate. A sea-gull flew near to the
bulwark as if to congratulate us on our
safe arrival.

We arrived at the entrance of the
port at the appointed hour, four o'clock.
Ah! How great the joy of the people
when they saw the streets of Hakodate
from the deck! The gray roofs of
planed board on the slope of the moun-
tain ; the new ridge poles soaring among
the houses built in Nanbu style of stone
and sand; the landscape covered with
the green leaves of Matsubuna and
Itaya, from the high tower of the tem-
ple shining in sunlight to the custom
house, hospital, and the buildings of
many schools. This prospect of the port
of New Japan extended before our
eyes, exciting our interest.

The enormous group of people, gath-
ered on the seashore, raised a wilcl shout
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of joy to welcome the safe arrival of the
liner. The Surugamaru also made the
air resound with whistles! Passing
through the many sailing ships, steam-
boats, cargo-boats, sampans and light-
ers, the Surugamaru approached the
pier, — looking like a scared water-bird/
who had barely escaped from peril, ana
was hurrying to the shore, crying out to
her friends. When the ship stopped,
and seemed to sigh with relief, the waves
lapped about her with whisperings.

Then the passengers jumped into the
sampans and hastened to land on the
pier. What a sight of madness! Per-
sons landing, persons waiting to receive
them, parents embracing their children,
sisters their sisters, caressing and em-
bracing! All the women wept for joy,
which stirred the emotion of all onlook-
ers.

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At last the time came to part with the
student. Full of regret, I was standing
vacantly in the crowd, and forgot not
only the clamoring hotel-runners, but
everything, even to the package I
placed on the ground and the bag I was
carrying, wishing only to continue
speaking with this young man. How I
was moved at this unexpected intimacy
and this parting, thinking over the
events of the day's voyage!

Becoming conscious of the disappear-
ance of his companion, we turned back
and saw his arm firmly taken by a big
policeman.

"There! pickpocket!" said those who
gathered around us.

"Look! What are you thinking
about? Don't you know you have been
robbed?"

Being addressed by the policeman, I
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was aware for the first time tHat the
package I had placed on the ground
was gone.

"What! Impudent!" exclaimed the
student excitedly. "I am not such a
man as to commit lawlessness!"

"Don't be excited. Where did you
come from? I myself did not see you
break the law. But you are the com-
panion of the man who did it, aren't
you?"

As the policeman said this, I told him
every fact I knew, and defended the
student from the imputation of being a
suspicious character. The policeman
nodded at each of my words and, after
he inquired of the student how he be-
came a companion of such a scoundrel
as the pickpocket, he made more inquir-
ies and admonitions, and also advised
me to appear against the thief in court.
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"Wait a bit. I want to keep your
name and address."

The policeman took out his note-book
and gazed at the face of the student.

"What is your address?"

"Kusatsu town, Awata district, Omi
county."

"Your name?"

"Nishihara Yasutaro."

"Your age?"

"Nineteen."

After this catechism, the student
bade farewell to my wife and me, and
started again on his wanderings. I
looked at the appearance of his back as
he disappeared, and could not help be-
ing again reminded of my departed
Ryunosuke. My wife, weeping and
scarcely able to stand, looked after him,
leaning on my shoulder. Gazing this
way and that, we continued to look un-
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til the straw summer hat, the student-
like figure in the white cloth of Kasuri,
disappeared amid the crowd, and at last
faded away.

THE END

•lit*